Ghosts
by InSilva
Summary: “Body and Soul” verse. Set after “Justice” and before O12. Danny and Rusty run up against the past. Rated for profanity and mature but inexplicit themes. Complete.
1. Familiar Faces

Ghosts by InSilva

Disclaimer: Danny and Rusty do not belong to me.

Summary: "Body and Soul" verse. Set after "Justice" and before O12. Danny and Rusty run up against the past.

A/N: On the plus side of things, I have a pretty good idea how long this story is. Unusual, I know. :)

Chapter One: Familiar Faces

* * *

The name leapt out at him.

It was late morning and he was casting an eye as he did every day over the list of guests who had arrived the previous evening when he spotted it. Immediately, he told himself not to be paranoid. It wasn't a common name but it wasn't an uncommon name either. And the area of the country the man came from wasn't right. _But he could have moved…_

His train of thought was interrupted by Kirsty who knocked on the open door to his office with an apologetic smile.

"Sorry to interrupt, Mr Ryan, but there's an incident…"

"It's fine, Kirsty." And he stood up and the name was pushed to the back of his mind.

The incident involved a delivery of balloons and chocolates and a large stuffed toy. The man who'd brought them was insisting that he could only hand them over to a Mr Sam Kennedy.

"We have no one of that name checked in, sir," Arthur was saying, his eyes travelling nervously to the audience forming behind him in the foyer.

"It's Sam Kennedy-" the delivery guy checked his paperwork again, "the third."

Rusty could see the thought washing over Arthur's face that that fact was utterly superfluous as they had no Sam Kennedys of any number staying. He smiled at Arthur and stepped in to the discussion.

"Let me take those and make sure Mr Kennedy gets them."

"You know him?" The delivery guy looked suspicious.

"Sam Kennedy the third, right? I certainly do," Rusty said with complete conviction and the guy nodded, convinced.

* * *

Someone stood in the foyer and watched Rusty in action with dawning recognition and subsequent great interest.

* * *

Rusty took charge of the gifts and left the reception desk to Arthur, heading back to his office, Kirsty following.

"Here," he said to Kirsty and handed her the bunch of gold and silver balloons. "We've got a honeymoon couple arriving this afternoon. Pop them in their suite, would you?"

"Of course."

Looking at the three foot stuffed bear with the bow-tie and the large box of chocolates, he thought of Kirsty who put in some tough shifts.

"Would you like-" he began and her face lit up.

"Oh, I'd love!" she said, happily taking the box of chocolates from him.

He hadn't meant the chocolates. He smiled and tightened his grip on the bear.

As he had nearly reached his office, Kirsty said shyly, "Happy birthday, Mr Ryan."

"How did you…?"

With sudden intuition, he looked round the office door to see Danny, sitting in his chair, feet up on his desk, waiting for him. He glanced back at Kirsty who blushed.

"He wanted it to be a surprise."

Rusty had no clear idea of the relationship Kirsty imagined for Danny and himself. He had a feeling it leaned towards the romantic. Though he could be wrong. Perhaps she thought they were spies.

"Thank you, Kirsty," he said and she disappeared.

He walked into the office and sat the bear in a chair and leaned up against the wall, his arms folded.

"Suppose you want me to buy you lunch?"

Danny shrugged and twinkled at him. "You own a hotel," he pointed out.

"Sam Kennedy?"

"The third."

Rusty shook his head with a smile.

"I want you to keep the bear and think of me," Danny said, getting to his feet.

"Because it's short, soft and paunchy?"

"Because it's better dressed than you and blessed with better wit."

"Better wit? Even though it's mute?"

"You just have to look at it to know what it's thinking."

Rusty studied the bear and looked back at Danny.

"What?" Danny wanted to know.

"You want me to think of _you_ when I look at the bear? It's only wearing a bow-tie."

Danny grinned. "Well, there was that one time-"

"- oh, there was," Rusty agreed. "And I hate to think how close you came to being arrested. Be thankful we were in Frisco."

"Anyway, the one on the bear-"

"-doesn't revolve?"

"No. Plus-"

"-it's round the bear's neck?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well…" Rusty considered and conceded. "That'll probably help."

* * *

They sat in the hotel restaurant and ordered.

"How's Tess?" Rusty asked.

"Coping with being Mrs Diaz. Seems determined to decorate every damn room in the house."

"Woman's an artist."

"Possibly. She's threatening to have some wallpaper in one of the bedrooms that's as hard to live with as one of your shirts."

"You never did understand style."

"I'm going to call it the Rusty room."

_Not to her face._

_Not if I want to live._

Rusty grinned.

"And if you come to stay, I'll make you sleep there."

"Is it that displeasing to your sense of aesthetics?"

"Put it this way, if we ever sold the house, that would be the first room that got stripped by the new owners."

"Huh." Rusty considred and then a gleam appeared in his eye. "Well, in that case, you could always offer to hang the wallpaper and buy some red paint."

Intrigued, Danny raised an eyebrow.

"Before you paper, write on the wall."

""RIP taste"?"

"I was thinking "Others will die"."

The food arrived as Danny was chuckling and there was a silence as they busied themselves with the trout and the steak and fries.

* * *

Across the room, a waiter was summoned.

"That man over there with the blond hair. Does he work here? Is he the manager?"

"No, sir, that's Mr Ryan. He owns the hotel."

"Owner. Well, it's certainly a smart place. Would you be good enough to pass this note on to him? I'd like to offer him my thanks. Oh, and what's the name of the man he's with? I've a feeling I know him."

* * *

The plates were cleared away and Rusty was studying the dessert menu with interest while Danny was studying him with amusement.

"Remind me again why you aren't thirty stone?"

Rusty looked up at him, eyes smiling. "My body is a temple."

"It's what you worship that worries me."

"Mr Ryan?"

Rusty looked up at the young waiter. "Yes, Tony."

"A gentleman asked me to pass this on to you." Tony handed over the folded piece of paper.

"Which gentleman?" Rusty asked.

Tony turned to gesture but looked confused. "He's gone." He turned back to Rusty. "I'm sorry. He didn't leave a name."

"Don't worry about it, Tony. Oh, can you bring us a lemon meringue and a tiramisu?"

_And what am I eating?_

_I'll share._

_Liar._

"Secret admirer?" Danny asked as Tony walked away.

"Could be," Rusty said and opened the note.

* * *

Danny's smile faded as he watched the colour disappear from Rusty's face; as he saw Rusty's fingers tighten on the paper and then ball into fists - and Danny _knew_ Rusty's fingernails were digging deep into his palms; as he looked at Rusty and heard the sudden radio silence as Rusty dropped out of the same part of space-time continuum that Danny occupied.

_Rus…?_

There was no response. Rusty was still staring at the damn note.

Danny was on the verge of snatching it off him when he saw the man. About sixty, slight in build, with thinning sandy hair and a smile that seemed all things cheerful and despicable at the same time. And he was moving forward slowly, his eyes fixed on Rusty. On the back of Rusty's head. And Danny knew he wasn't even a glimmer on Rusty's radar.

"Rus."

It was low and urgent and for a dreadful moment, he thought it wasn't enough. Then Rusty's eyes flickered and he looked up from the note and came back to him. Rusty's breathing was shallow and he was swallowing hard and Danny could see the fight for control that was going on across the table from him.

Eventually, Rusty took a deep breath and he was back as Rusty again. He smiled at Danny.

"Sorry about that. Someone's sick idea of a joke." He screwed up the note in his right hand.

"Rusty-"

"Someone trying to be funny," Rusty said. "Let's forget about it."

Danny held his gaze but Rusty wasn't giving. He glanced over Rusty's shoulder but the man had gone. When he looked back, the note had disappeared.

Rusty picked up the bottle of red and filled Danny's glass, concentrating on the pouring liquid. "You staying?"

Danny's mind was suddenly sidelined. There was something in the question that Danny didn't get. Just a little undercurrent of…Rusty _not_ wanting him around? Why, how and when did that ever become an option? His brain darted through possibilities and came up with the only one that made a hint of sense.

"You got company?" he asked.

It would never be an issue before. Rusty would cancel with charm and whoever would forgive and rearrange. Danny seriously doubted anyone would pass up the opportunity of a date with Rusty. Unless this was something serious…but… _No_, he told himself. _No. Go with your instinct._

"Just asking," Rusty said casually, his eyes watching his hand pour the wine from the bottle into his own glass.

In actual fact, Danny hadn't planned on staying. He'd hoped to spend the day and evening and then had lined up a late flight back. But now…

"Thought I'd stay over if it's alright with you."

It sounded falsely casual to his ears and Rusty would normally pick up and challenge and the fact that he hadn't, meant only one thing.

Rusty put the bottle on the table, reading the label.

"No problem," he said and Danny heard the strain that wasn't in the words and wondered really why Rusty was even bothering.

Rusty lifted his glass and studied it.

"To getting older-"

"-to staying young."

Looking back, it seemed like a genuine accident. Rusty flung his arm out for another toast just as Tony came with their desserts. Rusty's glass tipped itself over Rusty.

"Mr Ryan! Oh, I'm so sorry!" Tony could not be more apologetic.

"It's OK, Tony, it's nothing, it was my fault," Rusty reassured him, smiling up at him.

Danny looked over at the ruined suit and waited.

"Sorry," Rusty looked down at himself. "I'll just go and change. Be right back."

Of course. Of course."Of course."

Rusty disappeared without looking in his eyes once. Danny sat and watched him go.

* * *

Time had stopped for Rusty as he'd read the note. He felt his mouth go dry and his heart start to race. Dimly, he was aware of his fingers curling in on themselves as they gripped the paper.

And then he had heard Danny and he'd brought himself back, _forced_ himself back. He'd tried his best to hide even though part of him was rolling his eyes at his efforts. Danny was never that easily put off.

The trick with the wine had gone as seamlessly as he could have hoped. And if he didn't actually have to look at Danny, he could hold on to the thinnest of possibilities that he could fool him.

Now, Rusty was standing in an elevator, wishing it would move more quickly and wondering whether he should have taken the stairs. He had to deal with this, get changed and get back to Danny.

The note was burning a hole in his pocket. It had been brief but specific.

The elevator doors opened on the fourth floor and Rusty nearly ran down the corridors, coming to a halt in front of room 489. He caught his breath and buried his fear and his mouth set into a firm line. Twenty-five years on and things were going to be on his terms. There was only one thing he had to make sure didn't happen.

He pushed down on the handle and walked into the room, steeling himself for the damnable smile.

"Lad! How very nice to see you again."

* * *

Danny had given it a moment and then he'd headed after Rusty. There was no sign of him in the foyer. Kirsty was on the desk and he caught her attention.

"Did you happen to see Mr Ryan come through here?"

"Yes…he just went up in the elevator…"

Danny turned on his heel and looked at the bank of elevators she'd indicated. Two had open doors. The third one showed it had stopped at floor four and Danny knew where he was headed.

"Kirsty?" Danny switched on the charm. "Could I beg a favour?"

* * *

Rusty shut the door behind him as MacAvoy, repellent as ever, crossed the room to greet him. All the anger and disgust and shame flowed through him vividly. When he'd been working for MacAvoy, he'd longed to punch him out every time he saw him and now… Eyes bright and unblinking, he drew his fist back.

MacAvoy stopped short and backed away.

"Now then, lad, that's no way to greet an old friend."

Rusty's face darkened.

"You gonna hold still or you gonna make me chase you round the room."

"Lad…lad…" MacAvoy sounded hurt and Rusty stared at him with incredulity. Did he seriously think Rusty was going to welcome him with open arms?

"Where's all this coming from?" MacAvoy asked, backing into the bed and stopping.

"You can't be serious…" Rusty snarled.

"All I wanted to do was congratulate you. Hotel owner! How very respectable."

Rusty grabbed the front of MacAvoy's shirt and drew his fist back again.

"And your nice gentleman friend. Mr Diaz. I would love to meet him."

And just like that, Rusty's anger died. His fist stopped in mid-swing. His nerveless fingers let go of MacAvoy who plumped down on to the bed.

"That's right, lad," MacAvoy's eyes were bright. "Why don't you sit down on that chair and we can have a little chat."

* * *

Danny was knocking and smiling at guests and bluffing when he got an answer and using the pass key when he didn't. Every dead end made his mouth just that little bit tighter and his smile just a little bit more forced.

* * *

Rusty sat on the chair in the middle of the room and dug his fingernails into his palms and felt MacAvoy at his shoulder and for once - for _once_ - missed the lampshade.

MacAvoy's hand stretched out and stroked Rusty's hair gently. Rusty pulled his head free with an angry jerk and MacAvoy just chuckled.

"Lad, lad, you need to have a better temper on you."

He reached out again and Rusty bit his lip hard as MacAvoy's fingers continued to trail over the blond as he spoke.

"It's been such a long time, lad. You know how much I missed you when you left?"

_How much you missed the money,_ Rusty thought savagely.

"I couldn't believe it when I saw you this morning. You've grown up to be such a handsome man. So good-looking, such a great physique, and still such lovely, lovely hair…"

Rusty felt the fingers winding through his hair and was flooded with memories of a hundred other fingers touching and playing and caressing and _hurting_…he swallowed the bile and concentrated on MacAvoy's words.

"And to find you so successful in life…a property owner, running a business…running a hotel…any sidelines going? If you know what I mean."

As ever, Rusty did.

"No," the word shuddered out of Rusty.

"Well…maybe we could talk about that…"

Rusty didn't have to see MacAvoy's face to know there was a gleam in his eye. MacAvoy was only ever about opportunity and money and any second now, he was going to say-

"And Mr Diaz…such an attractive man. Dark hair, dark eyes…and you with the blond and the blue…the two of you make such a lovely couple."

MacAvoy bent down to Rusty's ear.

"I bet you make a lovely couple," he said with a change in emphasis which did not escape Rusty and which wrenched his mouth.

MacAvoy straightened up and made his way round to the front of Rusty, reaching past Rusty's right shoulder to lean his hand on the back of the chair, his right hand still resting on Rusty's head, still stroking Rusty's hair, looking into Rusty's eyes.

"Now then, lad." And MacAvoy's tone moved into all things harsh. "You have a little think about what that nice Mr Diaz would say if I were to have a little word with him about your previous way of life. Do you want me to tell him about the number of times you sat on that bed of mine and pleasured yourself for another's entertainment? Or all that time you spent burying your face in a stranger's lap? Or how often you lay on your back or your stomach and let someone enjoy you?"

Rusty didn't see the lined face or the stranded hair; he was sixteen again and it was as if he had never been parted from MacAvoy.

"Do you want me to find him and introduce myself and-"

"No!" It was shout and entreaty wrapped up into one. He never wanted Danny to meet MacAvoy.

MacAvoy straightened up and patted Rusty's head.

"Don't worry, lad. I won't. Long as we can come to an understanding. I'd hate to see Mr Diaz's face when he had to listen to that story. Wouldn't you?"

Rusty closed his eyes. He had no problem picturing Danny's face. He opened them again.

"What do you want?" he asked heavily.

* * *

Danny was working his way methodically through the rooms when he turned the corner and ran into Rusty. Rusty took one look at him and guessed and pulled a face.

"Lose the way to your room?" Danny's eyes were taking no prisoners and Rusty knew everything was too fresh on his face to hide.

"Small detour," Rusty said tightly. "Heading to my room now if you want to come with."

_Oh, I surely do._

_

* * *

_A/N: the red paint under the wallpaper came from a very funny anecdote from Ellis Watson.

And "Body and Soul" verse again. I know. I do have other things to write, I promise.


	2. The Unexpected

Ghosts by InSilva

Disclaimer: oh, I'm sorry, boys.

A/N: otherhawk read all this a long time ago – don't actually remember giving her much of a choice – and as always, am so pleased and lucky that she did. The two phone calls in this chapter are down to her. Ideas and details - what can I say? Oh, that's right. Thank you. ;)

Chapter Two: The Unexpected

* * *

Down at reception, Arthur was dealing with a change of room.

"The Cleveland suite, sir? That's no problem…"

"It has a good view, right?"

"The best," Arthur smiled.

* * *

The suit and shirt were on the floor and Rusty was taking his time rifling through his closet while Danny sat on the bed and watched him.

"You gonna tell me?"

"You gonna wait till I'm dressed?"

"Like that makes a difference?"

Rusty pulled out a muted violet shirt and a bottle-green suit.

"That looks almost wearable," Danny took time out to approve.

"Thanks."

He pulled the pants and shirt on and busied himself with the cuffs. There were no more words and Danny's patience came to an end. He stood up and grabbed Rusty's hands.

"Tell me," he said in a voice that would not stand for any nonsense.

Unwillingly, Rusty looked at him and sighed. "Danny…"

Danny's hands moved up to grip Rusty's shoulders.

"Rusty, you tell me."

They were the hardest words to say. "I can't, Danny. Please."

He braced himself as Danny's eyes bored into him, searching and searching. Finally, Danny let go of him.

"That's how it is?"

"That's how it is," Rusty agreed.

"Well," Danny smiled grimly. "Then you know what's coming."

Oh, Rusty knew. 24/7. Until he found out. Rusty only had one stab at defence against that.

"What about Tess?"

Danny had obviously been expecting it. "Tess can wait."

"Oh, no, you don't. Not after-"

"Then tell me and get it over with."

"It's not happening, Danny."

They stared each other out for a moment then Danny nodded and smiled.

"Well, let's get on with your birthday."

* * *

They spent the afternoon in Santa Monica, people-watching and drinking coffee and eating cakes. Things were normal and relaxed and they revelled in each other's company. There'd been a time when that was all they'd known and the necessary and unnecessary disruption to that made times when they were together all the more precious.

Danny saw that Rusty was so much more comfortable away from the hotel and stored up the knowledge. There was no way he wasn't going to find out the truth. If that meant going to every room on the fourth floor.

Rusty saw that Danny was as determined as only Danny could be and smiled mirthlessly to himself that he didn't have the ownership of the term obdurate. And part of him was already running through plans of how to slip the leash.

* * *

Dinner was back at an Italian restaurant close by. Danny was pretty sure he recognised it.

"Didn't we-?"

"Yeah. Night of the fire-alarms."

They looked at each other for a moment, remembering. Rusty was first to look away.

"It's over, Rus," Danny said then added softly, "it _is_ over, isn't it?"

Rusty flashed him a smile. "It is."

Danny nodded, reading the honesty. So much for that line of thought. His other thought was Benedict and he was going to wait before he brought that up.

* * *

Rusty's phone rang as they were about to order.

"So. Birthdays. Seem to come around once a year."

Rusty smiled in spite of everything.

"Hey, Saul."

"You doing OK? You got any unexpected visitors?"

Rusty's eyes didn't flicker, didn't give a thing away. And Danny wasn't hearing what Saul was saying but he was looking at Rusty's face, at every nuance of emotion that wasn't being expressed.

"Danny's here," Rusty said and he heard Saul chuckle.

"Say hi from me. And try not to come up with any scheme that I don't want to know about."

"Take care." He put the phone away. "Saul says hello."

Danny nodded. "Maybe I'll ask him to come and say it in person," he suggested mildly.

Rusty stared at him. Saul being there was about as attractive an option as Danny's presence.

_You don't play fair._

_Why start now? Tell me._

"I can't." He couldn't.

Danny sighed and Rusty's brain started working overtime on how to part company.

They ordered; they ate; they returned to the hotel. As they did so, an unforgivable idea started to seed itself in Rusty's mind.

* * *

Danny made the call as they sat down at the hotel bar.

"Hey," he said and Tess sounded happy. "Tess, just to let you know I'm going to be away longer than I thought."

There was a silence and Danny pictured her face, pale and worried and he said quickly, "It's not like last time." His eyes were on Rusty's. "Rusty's got something going on at the hotel and he needs me here."

Rusty's mouth set in a straight line.

_Yes, you do._

"Awkward customer," Danny said into the phone and his eyes told Rusty he was describing him.

There was more silence and then a sigh which was Tess accepting the inevitable followed by murmurs of love and requests that he be careful.

"Love you, Tess." Rusty gave the faintest of nods of acknowledgement at the words and Danny saw that he understood. Because after Vincente, after death and life and the desperation of the chase and after Tess saw the other side of his life in full Technicolour, he said those words to her anywhere now and meant them so much. She needed them and he needed to say them. "I'll call. And don't worry. It's not like last time." He hung up and looked at Rusty. "It isn't, is it?"

"You mean are we going to have to deal with someone who practises torture on a regular basis? Is there a trip to Rio involved? Am I going to find the worst imaginable in a disused warehouse down by the docks?" Rusty shrugged. "I doubt it."

* * *

There was whisky in the bar. There was never-ending friendship. And apart from the declared intent to misdirect and the equally declared intent to fight it, they were content with each other's company.

As Danny turned to signal for a refill, Rusty's eyes lost their light. Because he needed to ditch Danny soon and so far the only way he'd come up with was as unpardonable as they came. He couldn't do it. He just _couldn't_ do it. Then he pictured Danny face-to-face with MacAvoy and he thought about short-term versus long-term - and it would be a very long term – and he thought about both his and Danny's abilities and he decided. When Danny turned back to him, he smiled and raised a glass.

"Alcohol staying inside this time?" Danny asked.

"It's the best malt in the hotel so you better believe it."

"What are we drinking to?"

"How about past, present and future?"

Danny raised his own glass. "Agreed."

* * *

"I've got to check some things at reception before we go up," Rusty said and Danny nodded amiably. Rusty could try his best. He'd be vigilant.

The foyer was empty. Rusty nodded to the night receptionist and busied himself with keys and paperwork. Danny waited idly the guest side of reception as Rusty scanned through the registers and punched open the cash drawer.

"Need to reconcile this," he said apologetically and pulled it out.

"Your office?"

Rusty nodded and they headed there.

The bear was still sat on the chair. Danny took a seat alongside it and watched Rusty counting the money into bundles. There was plenty of it and it amused Danny that for once, it was legally Rusty's. There was a noise outside that sent Danny on to high alert. He glanced over at Rusty whose face was fearful and that made Danny get to his feet and walk towards the desk. He leant over it.

"Stop this now," he hissed. _You've got to know you're killing me._

Rusty's eyes were wide and round and his hands crept up into the air. Danny frowned.

_What the-?_

"Don't move!" came the voice from the doorway. "Hands where I can see them!"

With horror, Danny stared at Rusty. He couldn't have. He just couldn't have. Then he saw the look in Rusty's eyes which was one-third apology, one-third relief and one-third hell and realised that, damn it, he could.

"Oh, you cannot…"

"Hands where I can see them!"

Slowly, Danny raised his hands. The feel of the gun hovering at the back of his neck was not a surprise. And the push in his back which sent him forward across the desk was also expected. And as the handcuffs were slapped on him, the look in Rusty's eyes which was now completely apology was hardly a shock either.

"You pushed the panic button in here, Mr Ryan?"

"I did." Rusty's voice was unnaturally high as he lowered his hands. "I think this man is drunk. He accosted me when I was taking the till off and I was a little nervous. Then he followed me back here."

"You think he was after the money?"

"No…no…not at all," Rusty said, his voice twittering, his eyes on Danny. "He didn't want the money…I just felt uncomfortable. I'm not very brave around strange men."

He looked up at the officer and hit him with full dazzle. Danny's mouth set a little firmer. He could imagine the effect that that, combined with Rusty's words and, well, with Rusty, was having. He could feel the cops exchanging glances and then he felt himself pulled upright.

_This is so not over._

_I'm sorry. Now, get on with it. _

"You are a mean son of a bitch who doesn't play fair," Danny slurred with feeling, belching whisky clouds into the faces of the cops. "I jus' wanted to complain about my room. You're a dirty, rotten-" He broke off as a nightstick found its way into his ribs and both he and Rusty winced.

"You want to press charges?" one of the cops asked Rusty. "You want us to arrest him?"

"Oh, no!" Rusty looked horrified and Danny knew Rusty didn't have to act too hard for that. "I'd just like you to take him away and speak to him. If that's alright. He scared me a little."

Danny grimaced as he saw Rusty looking up under his lashes at the cop. He shot a look at the cop in question who was part-horrified, part-fascinated and swallowing hard.

"We'll just run him round the block in the squad car," the other cop promised.

"He's a guest here," Rusty said as if he were remembering that fact. "Mr Diaz. Here's his key. Room 247."

"Unbelievable," Danny muttered and received another poke in the ribs for his trouble.

"You and us need to have a little chat, mister. You want to learn to hold your drink and not scare nice men who have busy hotels to run."

They pulled Danny backwards towards the door.

"Thank you so much, officers," Rusty said and Danny swore to himself as he saw the dazzle again and, damn it, the flutter.

_We are going to have words._

_Not right now, we're not. And I _am_ sorry._

Danny sighed and got on with being drunk.

* * *

Rusty finished bundling the money and opened the safe to retrieve the cash deposits from the other tills that had been left there. He made his way quickly to the Cleveland suite and used his master key to open the door. MacAvoy was sitting on the couch in the sitting room, champagne flute in one hand, tray of room service on his knee, waiting and Rusty gritted his teeth at the sight of him.

"Here it is," Rusty said without ceremony handing the bills over. "Now I don't want to see your face anywhere near here tomorrow."

"Lad," MacAvoy tutted. "You think I'd travel all this way to stay just the one night?"

Rusty glared down at him. "Oh, no. You needn't think you're going to bleed me dry. Tomorrow, you pack your bags and you clear out before I throw you out."

He should have known MacAvoy would squeeze the moment. Well, he could try. Once Danny was gone and far away, he would pick MacAvoy up himself and eject him if necessary.

"Like I say, I see myself staying a little longer." There was a look of serenity on MacAvoy's face that Rusty couldn't decipher. "Such a nice room. Such a pleasant room to do business in."

"It's not happening," Rusty said tightly, his mouth twisting at the very thought.

"You know, when I saw you this morning I wondered whether or not you'd go along with my request," MacAvoy said conversationally, putting the tray to one side and getting to his feet, still holding the champagne and the money.

_Blackmail,_ thought Rusty. _Call it what it is._

"So I made a little call."

Rusty frowned, uncomprehending. And then the voice of his nightmares stepped out of the bedroom behind him.

"Long time, no see, Rob."

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't turn round. He couldn't. It wasn't real. It wasn't... He looked at MacAvoy.

"Found him the day after," MacAvoy said, smiling and Rusty thought about the day after with the ache and the blood and bruises. "Always nice to have a bit of insurance, lad. And we kept in touch over the years. He's been a very useful gentleman to know."

Rusty's control was dissolving as every moment passed and as he suddenly felt the hand snaking up through his hair, he closed his eyes and felt the trembling work his way through him.

"Now you know that's not allowed," the voice chided and the fingers tightened in his hair and Rusty's eyes flew open.

MacAvoy's smile was beatific. "A nice chunk of tomorrow's takings too, please, lad. My friend and I will be waiting."

The hand disappeared from Rusty's hair and ran its way purposefully straight down his shoulders and back and with difficulty, Rusty contained the shiver.

"Don't make me come visit you," the voice said behind his ear, rich with amusement.

Rusty had to get out of there. Had to. Had to.

"Sure," he said to MacAvoy and his voice wasn't his. "Alright. Tomorrow night." And he hated the sound of defeat he could hear.

"Good lad. See, we can all get along when we try to."

With dread, Rusty turned round to leave. There was no one behind him. The door opened on to an empty corridor and as it closed behind him, Rusty ran, his feet moving soundlessly over soft, thick carpet, tearing through empty corridors. He didn't stop until he reached his own suite and then he locked every lock and stared at the door, adrenaline pulsing through him, the terror real and live.

God, he wanted Danny. He needed Danny. And he'd sent him away.

* * *

Danny was sitting in the back of the squad car, sobering up fast and showing the cops that he was really an upright citizen.

"Don't know what came over me, officers," he said expansively. "Guess I had a little bit too much to drink and, well, my room isn't up to much. And when I saw him and he was all…you know…"

He broke off and sharply read their expressions. Yes, they knew. He was safe to continue down that vein.

"I just wanted to do what any real man would do and stand up for myself. I didn't mean to _scare_ him."

He said "scare" as if he'd behaved in a way that any real man would take on the chin. And he could tell that the two cops were more than a little pissed off at being called out on a panic button by a hotel owner who was using them as security.

"Honestly, officers," Danny went on, the tears sounding in his voice. "I've never been in trouble with the law. I'm just here on business. My wife will hit the roof."

That swung it. The cops were not going to let a good old boy run into domestics over some less than manly non-existent claims. Plus, this was undoubtedly time away from the coffee and doughnuts.

"Here's your key, Mr Diaz. You remember which room you're in?"

"247," he responded with the eagerness of one who's about to be let off the hook.

"Hurry along now and don't let us see you in trouble again."

"Oh, thank you, officers. Thank you," Danny said as he was allowed to get out of the car and the handcuffs were removed.

He beamed genially at them and headed towards the hotel, ready to throttle Rusty until he shared. Actually, whether he shared or not.

* * *

A/N: The references to the fire alarms and the last time are about "Justice". The voice of Rusty's nightmares can be found in "Self Possession".


	3. Full Disclosure

Ghosts by InSilva

Disclaimer (of a long and self-indulgent nature):

"You've reached DannyandRusty-"

"RustyandDanny."

_What?_

"Just once in a while RustyandDanny."

A sigh.

"You've reached RustyandDanny. Please leave a message after the tone."

"Unless you're InSilva."

"In which case, just start packing."

"Skip the packing."

"Skip the packing and start the running."

"Yeah. 'Cos that'll work."

(Dissolve into laughter).

Yeah. They're not mine. And save me a place on the plane, please.

Chapter Three: Full Disclosure

* * *

Rusty caught sight of himself in the mirror by the door and swallowed hard at the familiar stranger looking back; shocked out of himself and back to being a terrified teenager. He shrugged the green jacket from his back, wondering a little that the man's fingers have not left scorch marks in their wake.

"_Don't make me come visit you."_

The man was here. He was alive and he was here and seeing MacAvoy had been bad, seeing MacAvoy had uprooted him from security and thrown him back a quarter of a century to a life he never wanted, a life that had threatened to consume him, a life he had spent denying was his, but hearing the voice…feeling the hands on his body, the fingers in his hair…

There was a small moan and he almost didn't recognise the fact that he'd made it. And then he could feel the walls inside him start to break down and he fought valiantly to keep them in place but they had started their inexorable tumble and he sank to the floor on his knees, caught with the memory.

_In the middle of the unrelenting misery, he thinks of a way to end it. If he can just tip the man over the edge, then that has to be the finish of it. Surely. _

_He doesn't let the idea surface in his eyes because the man will read it. Instead, he applies himself, mouth and hands working the flesh with an aching desperation. He tries every trick with his tongue. His fingers are bold and precise. _

_After ten or twenty or thirty minutes, he realises it's not going to work and sits up. And the man, who has watched his best efforts, watches with amusement as the realisation dawns._

"_Nice try, Rob," he says, "you are really, really good at that, you know."_

_And Rusty can't stop his face creasing with disgust. The man reaches out and pushes his head back down into his lap._

"_Keep your eyes on mine in the mirror, Rob. And do what you did again. I didn't realise you hadn't been trying."_

Rusty feels the hand in his hair, holding him down, making his scalp crawl and he presses a hand over his mouth as the vomit rises. He scrambles to the bathroom in time to throw up and as he stands over the sink, breathing heavily, his gaze falls on something.

* * *

Danny didn't bother with room 247. He went straight to Rusty's suite and tried the handle. Locked. He was in no mood for a subtle entrance. Furious, he banged on the door. There was no answer. He dug the pass key out of his pocket and tried it but it didn't work on this room. He banged again and this time heard a small noise from within that sounded like…

"Rusty!" he shouted, anger dissipating and suddenly frightened. "Let me in!"

There was a pause and then the sound of bolts and chains being removed and a key turning and the door opened and then breath locked up inside Danny.

The first thing that Danny would normally have noticed would be the sway, all customary grace absent; or maybe Rusty's face, white with primal fear; or possibly Rusty's eyes, wild and haunted; but actually the first thing was…

"What the fuck…?" he said faintly.

Rusty's hair was… Chunks were missing. Other places, Danny could see scalp. It looked like someone had taken an angry razor to it.

"What the fuck?" he repeated then stepped into the room, kicking the door to and catching Rusty before he fell.

He pulled Rusty across to the couch and, as he did so, caught sight of the trail of blond hair leading from the bathroom.

"Fuck," he swore again.

"Danny…" Rusty's voice was a whispered mantra. "Danny, I'm so sorry, I'm so, so sorry…"

It took a second for Danny to realise what he was apologising for. The scene with the cops was light years away in Danny's mind. He shook his head dismissively.

"Rus…" Danny's eyes were irresistibly drawn to the state of Rusty's hair. "What happened?"

In answer, Rusty made a small inarticulate noise that wasn't a moan and wasn't a whimper and Danny forgot about questions for the moment. The way Rusty was clinging to him, desperate fingers holding him tight while Danny wrapped his arms around him, pressing his cheek to Rusty's forehead as Rusty buried his face in Danny's chest as if seeking sanctuary. As he felt the shudders course through Rusty, Danny was reminded of…

Oh, this was such an old fear. This wasn't Benedict, this was… Danny's embrace tightened even as he thought about Rusty and the note and the man in the restaurant flashed into his head. He quickly did the mental calculations. It had to be…and the never-dying flame of rage flared up again. He pulled back slightly so that he could look at Rusty.

"He's here?" he asked softly. "That bastard is here?"

And the look of double horror – the old and the new that Danny had pieced it together – filled Rusty's face.

"Danny…"

"He's here." And in a flash, Danny worked through the steps. The man – the _bastard _- and the note and the not telling and the plan to ditch him because…because he was going back to see the man – the _bastard –_ and what? Blackmail. Danny's mind flew to the logical option. "The hotel, right? He's using the hotel."

Rusty blinked at him and then gave a quick nod. Too quick. And Danny immediately understood the other half of what the man was trying to hold over Rusty.

"And me," Danny said heavily. They'd been observed and people were prone to drawing their own conclusions. "He threatened to tell me. He thinks…"

"He thinks," Rusty agreed leadenly.

And while Rusty would not give a damn about his reputation as a hotel owner, he wouldn't want Danny to be told a thing. But not for the obvious reasons.

"Danny…" Rusty said again and Danny flinched inwardly at the pain in Rusty's voice.

"You're not going to tell me not to get involved, are you?" Danny warned. "Because I got involved the day I met you."

"Please," Rusty said and it was low and charged with emotion and as close to begging as Rusty would ever get and it killed Danny to hear it. "I don't want you anywhere near him."

Danny closed his eyes and carefully pushed away the thoughts of what he wanted to do – what he _would _do. Then, he opened them and with a perfectly clear and level gaze he looked at Rusty.

"Let me help, Rusty. Please. Because your choices are limited and-" he broke off and looked at the blasphemy of Rusty's hair, "handling it alone isn't working. Please."

He hesitated for a moment and then added by way of persuasion, "You don't have to tell me his name."

Rusty pulled free from him and stared at him with tortured eyes.

_Please, Rus._

Swallowing hard, Rusty sat up on the edge of the couch, hands locked together, eyes running over the patterned rug on the floor.

Danny waited. He'd never asked. He knew parts. He'd guessed parts. He knew it pained Rusty more than anything to go into the memories and to do so in front of Danny redoubled that pain because of the effect it had on Danny himself, and if he could, he would have spared him. But Rusty's face, Rusty's eyes and what was left of Rusty's hair said that they needed to be on the same page.

Rusty squeezed his eyes shut and started talking.

"He found me on the streets and he offered me a place to stay the night. Just one night. Couple of weeks later, he did the same. Nothing…no strings. Just a place to stay. Then the third time he told me what he did and he made it clear there was an opportunity there if I wanted it. I didn't. And then…then it snowed…"

_The door to the flat opens and a man in his forties enters. Clean-shaven and watery-eyed and nervous and unthreatening. MacAvoy is all things welcoming and jovial and takes a payment and then shows them both through to the bedroom and looks expectantly at the man who sits himself down in a chair. MacAvoy nods towards the bed and Rusty sits awkwardly on the edge._

"_I'll leave you to it, lad." And MacAvoy disappears._

_Rusty watches him go and then looks over at the man in the chair whose hands have disappeared from sight inside his coat and who is waiting patiently. Rusty closes his eyes and swallows and his hands move to his jeans. He hesitates for a split second and then he pushes the inner turmoil aside and opens his eyes and gets on with it, thankful that the mechanical process of it all will produce results as long as he can ignore the man sitting licking his lips, as long as he can work at being anywhere other than where he is, as long as he can focus._

Danny listened to the heaviness and hopelessness in Rusty's voice and saw the scene and fought back the fury. He had to. It would not help and it would change nothing. And there was more to come.

"So I did that for a while," Rusty said as if he was talking about a temp job, "and then I got this toothache…"

_It is no one he recognises and he is somehow grateful for that fact. It's like this is the first degradation rather than the latest in a long line. _

_Slowly, he kneels on the floor in front of the man and a small part of him is amused and thinks he should be flattered to find the man so ready. _

"_Make sure you swallow," MacAvoy has hissed at him just before he's left. _

_Rusty is wondering if it will ever get to that stage because right now, he can't bring himself to open his mouth. Then the pain in his tooth makes him gasp reflexively and the man lets out a moan and Rusty realises he thinks Rusty is playing with him. _

_He can do this. He can do this. If he can just work at taking himself a million miles away from where he is, if he can just ignore the sensation – the _taste_ – of it all, if he can just get this over with as quickly as he can._

"So then I did _that_ for a while," Rusty went on and Danny sat twisted round on the couch and twisted up inside, listening to the hell unfold, his mouth buried in his hand, clutching his elbow, waiting.

Rusty opened his eyes and was silent for a moment. Then he stared at the rug and started speaking again.

_He's too weak to sit up when the man comes in to the room. He lies there, wretched, and watches the man strip off, watches him approach the bed and look down at him and nod approvingly and expectantly._

_There is a long pause._

_With an effort, Rusty rolls on to his front, fingers gouging new patterns in his palms. As the man climbs awkwardly on to the bed, Rusty tells himself that he can get through this if only he can distract himself by counting the roses on the counterpane that's scrunched up and to the side, if only he can bite his lip hard throughout, if only he can tell himself it's not who he is and never will be._

"Then I did that," Rusty finished cataloguing his lost innocence. "A lot."

His eyes fell on the silent tears running down Danny's cheeks and he shook his head exasperatedly.

"It is what it is. It happened. And it's twenty-five years ago." He paused then exhaled angrily. "Fuck, Danny!"

Danny wasn't going to apologise for the tears. He wasn't going to apologise for caring. He certainly wasn't going to apologise for needing to reach out and pull Rusty to him and hold on to him like it was forever. He felt Rusty fighting with a dozen different extremes of emotion, each of them spasming through his body. Then he went limp and rested his head back on Danny's shoulder and stared dry-eyed up at the ceiling.

Danny frowned. And then he gave a silent moan because he realised Rusty's story hadn't ended.

"Do you remember the diner in Fort Worth?" Rusty asked seemingly out of nowhere and Danny searched his memory.

"The man with that fish tattoo on his arm?" He remembered. Rusty had done what he'd done earlier at lunch and dropped out of himself and stared at the man's arm so hard that he'd asked him if it was someone from before. "You said it wasn't."

"It wasn't."

Rusty's eyes swivelled up to Danny's and Danny knew Rusty was seeing the barely contained insane rage that was perilously close to the surface.

"Promise…" Rusty began and then broke off. He tried again. "Promise me you won't…"

Danny's face screwed itself up. It was going to be bad.

_I promise._

Because he needed to hear it. However bad it was.

"This one guy…" Rusty swallowed and his gaze went up to the ceiling again. "He looked at me as if he knew me. He looked at me like…"

His eyes flickered back down to Danny's.

"Like I do," Danny said softly and Rusty nodded and Danny's grip on him tightened.

"He knew that I hid and he knew how I hid and why I hid and where I hid and he wouldn't let me escape," Rusty said tonelessly. "Kept me in that sleazy little room for hours." He swallowed again and whispered, "He made me give him a name. He made me look at him. All the damn time."

Danny could picture it: Rusty trapped in every way that mattered. And he recognised the truth about the nightmares he'd seen Rusty live through.

"And I tried to…I tried so very hard to..." Rusty broke off, lost in the memory. He shook himself. "And then eventually, that all stopped."

And Danny wanted to howl. Because he knew Rusty still hadn't finished.

"That all stopped and he got out this…it _hurt_…almost as much as…" Rusty's face contorted in remembered pain. "Danny…"

"It's OK, Rus, it's OK." Danny held him close and stroked the unfamiliar, uneven-length hair, seeing the horror of that night of long ago and wishing everlasting torment on Rusty's tormentor. "It's OK, you're safe…"

"He's here," Rusty whispered and Danny's hand stopped in mid-stroke.

Rusty flung himself up and backwards, off the couch, away from Danny.

"He's here," he spat. "Brought here as insurance. And he must be…what? Mid-fifties? And I didn't even see him. I just heard his voice and that did for me. I'm a grown man and still, still I'm running scared from him. Still, I'm shaking at the thought of him. Still, I'm…"

He broke off and Danny could see the self-rage and futility burning through Rusty. Before Danny could stop him, he slammed his head into the wall.

"Rus!"

"I am fucking stupid. And this!" Rusty ran a hand over his head and snarled at himself. "What was I thinking?"

He slammed his head again and Danny flew across the room and pinned him up against the wall.

"Stop it!" he said with low intensity. "Stop it and look at me!"

Rusty held his gaze unwillingly.

"Listen to me," Danny went on in the same voice that demanded Rusty hear the truth in what he said. "Just because it happened when it happened doesn't mean it didn't happen. Doesn't mean it's any less real. Doesn't make any of it any less of a…" he searched fruitlessly for the word, "…doesn't make it any less. No matter how young you were. No matter how old you are."

He let go of Rusty and straightened up, hands on hips. Rusty crossed his arms and looked at him.

Danny blinked his own anger out of his eyes. Because he wanted to hunt down every last damn one of them. He saw Rusty acknowledge the thought. Of course, Rusty knew how he felt. It came as part of the deal.

"What do you want, Rusty?" Danny asked quietly, his eyes telling Rusty that all possibilities were on the table.

* * *

"What do you want, Rusty?" Danny asked quietly

And Rusty heard _whatever you want, we'll do._ He saw it in Danny's eyes. Danny was asking because he'd said they'd handle this together. Danny was already clear on what he, Danny, would do. And Rusty knew he need never even get involved. All he needed to do was say four words to Danny and Danny would make it so. MacAvoy and the man with the swordfish tattoo would simply disappear.

Rusty frowned.

"You don't even-"

"Saw one bastard at lunch and the other has got a picture of a fish on his arm. And they're both staying here. It wouldn't take me long."

Still, Rusty said nothing. Then Danny took his elbow and pulled him across to the mirror by the door.

"Ask him," he said.

Rusty looked at the man with the scarecrow haircut. The man with the face that was tight and drawn. The man with the eyes that remembered. Everything.

God, it was tempting. They could do it. They could do anything. They could plan and they could execute. It wasn't as if it would be difficult. Guns were to be found anywhere. Knives were even easier. He owned the damn hotel: MacAvoy need never have arrived. He had a choice of cars that would be suitable. They could drive them into the desert and that would be the end of it and only the two of them would know where the two of them were.

Rusty thought back to Vincente's words and yes, yes, he could. He could pull the trigger. He could use a knife to touch the life he was taking. Given the right motivation, he had no qualms on that front. His gaze flicked over to Danny's unblinking reflection watching him. The danger in his eyes. Danny could do it too. If the motive was there. Do it and go back home to Tess and sleep easy at night.

Either of them had the potential to do it on their own and for their own reasons. Working together…ironically enough, that was the problem.

"No."

Danny looked like he'd misheard.

"No," Rusty said again, turning away from the mirror to face him.

"Why?" Low and whipcracked.

"The same reason I didn't want you to find out he was here. I don't want you to have his death on your hands. Either death on your hands."

"There'd be nothing to connect me to them."

"No," Rusty said yet again. "I don't want you to become a killer because of me."

"Really." Danny's eyes were bright and ready for an argument. "So what made it right for you to go after Vincente?"

"That was different," Rusty said at once. "He nearly killed you. He _did_ kill you."

"We can argue that point another time."

"Nobody killed me."

"We can argue that another time too."

Rusty was insistent. "You didn't walk through a door and find me beat up and bruised and not breathing. You didn't spend fuck knows how long next to a corpse, willing it back to life."

"If I had, would it have been OK for me to go after whoever was responsible? Because if the answer's yes then it's surely right to go after this pair for what they did to you. Because Vincente was kind compared to them."

It was soft and insinuating logic and it drove Rusty crazy. It batted up against everything he could throw at Danny and it was irrefutable. And it still made this wrong. In every way. It would take him, take Danny – take _them _­– to a place he didn't want them to be. It would move them from conmen, brilliant and professional and successful conmen, all the way into conspiracy and pre-meditation and - murder.

"It's not happening, Danny."

"Rusty…" Danny's voice was unsteady.

"No." Rusty's voice was ice. "Think about it. _Think_ about it. Either it would eat us alive or it would change us or both. And that's something I don't want. And neither do you."

This time it was Danny whose eyes flickered. Rusty watched as he gradually came back from the edge. Came back to being Danny. Left any thoughts of becoming an assassin behind.

"We don't kill them," Rusty said and waited.

There was a reluctant sigh.

"Alright," Danny agreed and Rusty knew he wouldn't go against that.

"So we need to figure out what we are going to do."

Danny looked at him.

"To start with, you need to take your shirt off."

Rusty raised an eyebrow.

"We're going to sort out your hair."

* * *


	4. Difficult Conversations

Ghosts by InSilva

Disclaimer: gripping though I find the idea to be, neither Danny nor Rusty belongs to me.

Chapter Four: Difficult Conversations

* * *

With one final pass, Danny finished running the shaver over Rusty's head. There had been nothing for it but to take the hair right down to the barest of coverings. The faintest, downy stubble was all that remained.

Rusty was sitting in a chair in front of the long mirror by the door. He tilted his head from side to side.

"I hate it," Danny said conversationally.

"Thanks." Rusty ran a hand over his scalp. "I feel naked."

Danny looked at him in the mirror and squinted. "You look young."

_Young and naked._ The words hung in the air between them and Danny shook his head and Rusty gave a rueful grin. Rusty stood up and Danny handed him his shirt.

"I've got an idea," Danny said quietly.

"Let's hear it."

"It'll mean calling in some favours."

"That's what favours are for."

* * *

They've talked it out and Danny's made two calls.

"_Livingston, where are you at the moment?" he asked and mouthed "Portland"._

_Rusty checks the map and nods. Portland is perfect. _

"_Need your help, Livingston," Danny says and outlines what he has in mind._

_When he finishes, there is a silence and then hesitantly, Livingston asks, "Is…does…this man…does he deserve it? Because this is…"_

"_Yes," Danny says firmly, his eyes on Rusty. "This and so much more."_

_Bobby is less easy to track down but eventually Danny finds him._

"_Sorry, Bobby," Danny begins and Bobby sighs because they only ever call him as an absolute last resort._

"_Not that it wouldn't be nice to hear from you at other times, you know," Bobby grumbles._

"_Sorry, Bobby."_

_Danny goes on to explain and there is a silence._

"_This is…" Bobby swears softly. "This is…"_

"_I know," Danny says quickly._

_There is another silence._

"_He deserves this?"_

_Danny closed his eyes. "More than I can tell you."_

_Bobby is considering because this is a big ask. The biggest. But Danny knows he can tell that Danny is all things sincere._

"_Alright," Bobby says decisively. "Give me the name."_

_And Danny hands the phone to Rusty. _

"_Hey, Bobby." Rusty's eyes are on Danny. "MacAvoy. His name is MacAvoy."_

* * *

Now, they were lying side by side in Rusty's bed looking at the ceiling in the half-light.

"I'm sorry," Rusty said quietly. "It was the only thing I could think of."

"It's OK."

"It's not."

A sigh. "It wasn't but it is."

"OK."

There was a pause.

"I'm still sorry."

Silence ruled for a while.

"This takes me back." Danny hadn't bothered asking and Rusty would have been more surprised if he'd headed for the guest bed. "Last time was…"

"Last time was Vincente."

"That Friday night…"

"No. When Saul and Turk came."

"That was different. That was sensible sleeping arrangements."

Rusty smiled. "Does that make this a foolish sleeping arrangement?"

Danny looked at him. "Never has to date."

Rusty yawned and Danny's eyes ran over the razored haircut and thought about the horrors that Rusty had told him and about the fact that the man, the _bastard_, MacAvoy (and his mouth twisted at the name) was spending the night under the same roof. MacAvoy who had preyed on boys like Rusty. Who had…Danny gritted his teeth. Who had seen Rusty on the streets. Who hadn't seen Rusty but instead potential for riches and had coveted. Who had offered Rusty up to the lust of others without any thought of the life, the soul he was destroying.

And then the other. The one who had looked at Rusty with a different kind of desire. The one who hadn't seen the surface but who'd looked deep inside Rusty and seen the truth, who'd seen the inner strength that Rusty drew upon, the places that Rusty buried himself and who'd not let him escape. The one who'd looked at Rusty and _known_ and who'd used that knowledge to inflict ultimate suffering.

The desire for violence and vengeance ran through Danny's body and his muscles tensed. He wanted to slip away and find both of them and…

"Rus…"

"Mmph?" Rusty's eyes were closed, his face washed with exhaustion.

Danny reached out and grasped Rusty's hand and felt the sleepy squeeze of fingers in return.

"Never mind," Danny whispered.

* * *

_It is snowing and he is naked and young and suffocating in a sea of a hundred bodies who all want to press closer still. There are hands and mouths and fingers and they are everywhere. He wants to scream but is petrified by silence. _

_And then through the general mass, he sees a pair of clear, blue eyes that hold his gaze, that see inside him, that know him and he understands that the owner of those eyes is calculating exactly how to trap and hurt and he feels the panic rise up inside him and he wants to escape, he wants to break free and suddenly the spell of immobility is broken, he can struggle, he can fight, he can push and he can shove: none of it makes any difference. _

_Those eyes are coming closer and closer and closer and-_

"Hey."

A firm hand shook him awake and then arms wrapped themselves round him and he held on, grateful for the reassurance. He felt the fingers stroking his hair soothingly and the world of the horrendous disappeared. He smiled and looked up at Rusty.

"What?" Rusty asked. "You think I don't know what to do?"

Danny stopped smiling. "This ends here, Rusty."

Rusty nodded.

Because then, maybe the nightmares would as well. For both of them.

* * *

It was early, early morning and they were up and dressed and in Rusty's office.

"There."

Rusty stopped the CCTV footage of the day before yesterday and they zoomed in on a clear picture of MacAvoy entering the hotel. Danny hit the copy button and transferred the image across.

Rusty moved on to the next day's tape and kept his finger on the fast forward button and his eyes on the screen while Danny sipped his coffee and studied him. The haircut was an abomination. Stark and joyless and as far away from Rusty as you could get.

He thought about Rusty's story from the previous night. To be honest, he hadn't really stopped thinking about it. It was every bit as appalling as he'd imagined. Every bit as hellish and agonising and he hated that Rusty had had to live it. Hated that he hadn't known him earlier in life. Hated that he hadn't been there to prevent it. If they'd been together…there would have been nothing they couldn't do. As it was, there had been nothing Rusty could do.

Danny pushed his chair further back so that he was looking at Rusty's profile; at Rusty, hunched forward, staring intently ahead of him at nameless faces. Unwillingly, he thought about hands pressing down on Rusty, holding Rusty down; mouths moving over Rusty's body; Rusty's body being used…

He closed his eyes and tried to push the images away and he knew that difficult though that was for him, it was even harder for Rusty. If Rusty wanted to - and God knows why he would – he'd be living those memories again. Fresh as anything. Danny opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling.

"Danny…"

He looked over at Rusty who was staring at him with eyes that understood and eyes that apologised needlessly for the pain and eyes that had borne all this alone for too long; far, far too long.

"Rusty…"

"I found him."

Danny sat up and looked past Rusty at the screen at a man with dark eyes, a broad nose and a hard mouth.

"Are you-?" The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them and he followed them immediately with a look of extreme apology.

Rusty flashed him a smile of acknowledgement.

"I'm sure," he said quietly.

* * *

Back up in the suite, Danny hesitated and Rusty knew what he was going to say. He got in first.

"I have to stay and you have to go."

It was the truth and they both knew it. Because if Rusty wasn't there, then the others might leave. And what neither of them wanted to think too much about was that the others might return, together or separately, at a time when Danny was back home with Tess and when Rusty wasn't expecting it.

This needed to be on their terms. And that meant splitting up.

* * *

Rusty phoned down and found Kirsty on reception.

"I'm not available today, Kirsty. If anyone asks, I'm working from my suite. I'll still take calls."

"Very well, Mr Ryan…"

There was uncertainty in her voice and Rusty realised that she would have seen Danny leaving. Damn. That could be a problem if anyone asked about Mr Diaz.

"My friend's had to go and attend to some business," he explained and wondered if Kirsty was now leaning more to the spy theory. "He'll be back."

"Oh, good!" Kirsty said and then stopped abruptly and Rusty gave a mental sigh as he decided she was back to the romantic.

"Kirsty…" He had been trying to think of another way of doing this but he couldn't: it needed to be someone he could trust to be competent and discreet. He really didn't want to involve her but it had to be done. "Kirsty, there's something I need you to do for me."

* * *

Danny had met up with Livingston at a diner in between Portland and MacAvoy's home town.

"Here you are," Livingston said, handing over the disk and the bag.

"Thank you, Livingston." Danny was sincere. This was more important than Livingston would ever know and Danny could never explain.

"Danny…this was…" Livingston's face creased with disgust. "It made me feel…"

"I know, Livingston." And Danny honestly did. It made his skin crawl just thinking about it but not as much as the way MacAvoy had made his living. Not as much as what Rusty had had to do to survive. Not as much as what MacAvoy had forced him into.

Livingston was silent and part of Danny was so, so sorry but the other part, the part with the strategy and the part with the resolute steel was not sorry at all.

* * *

The first phone call came mid-morning.

"Didn't see you at breakfast, lad. You feeling alright?"

There was a curiosity in MacAvoy's voice that made Rusty swallow hard. He could picture MacAvoy's eyes, hard and gleaming.

"I'm fine." He let a little undercurrent of fear into his voice. "I-I just wanted some time to myself."

There was a pause as MacAvoy digested that and his next words were full of confidence. MacAvoy had no doubt who was in charge.

"I see Mr Diaz has left. No strong words between you, I trust?"

Rusty's mouth twisted at Danny's alias in MacAvoy's mouth. He'd never wanted these two parts of his life colliding and it was as painful as he'd imagined.

They'd considered it a possibility that MacAvoy might find out that Danny had gone. Rusty was willing to bet that he had insinuated himself into many a conversation around the hotel.

"No…no," he swallowed loudly enough for MacAvoy to hear him, for MacAvoy to know that telling Danny was still a threat that would work. "He's away on business."

"Coming back to you, I hope, lad? Not playing away? Not a man to enjoy something a little extra, if you know what I mean?"

Rusty screwed his eyes up. All these years later and MacAvoy could still unwittingly slice into his soul with just a few words. He pushed the thought of Danny as a disloyal lover away.

"No." More firmly.

"Oh, I didn't mean to imply there was trouble in paradise, lad. I just wondered how the land lies. We're still on for tonight, right?"

"Yes." It was a hiss.

"Excellent." MacAvoy sounded positively joyous.

Rusty stared at the phone for a long while after MacAvoy had rung off. Then he went and took a shower.

* * *

The flat had been easy to find and easier to break into. Danny stood in the cheaply furnished set of rooms with the muted smell of sickly lavender and looked around him. His eyes went immediately to an object on the side and he had to sit down on the couch for a moment, his gloved hands locked together in front of his mouth.

The lampshade. _The _lampshade. The lampshade with the green tassels that he could now see for himself knotted impossibly together. The lampshade that Rusty hated so much. And even after the revelations of the previous night, Danny still wasn't sure why. But if it had been on display in the _other_ flat, he guessed that it was the one thing that Rusty's eyes were drawn to while he was waiting. _While he was waiting for…_ Nauseous anger overwhelmed him and he fought to keep it locked down.

In control of himself again, he got to his feet and started to hunt. He walked in to the bedroom and kept his eyes firmly away from the bed. Far too emotive to look anywhere near it. Sitting in a corner on a little table he saw what he wanted and got to work.

* * *

The phone in Rusty's room rang again in the afternoon.

"Hello?" he answered.

There was no one and he was about to hang up when he heard the breathing and his own breath caught in his throat.

"Rob."

Rusty hung up.

It rang again and he silently begged it to stop. On the ninth ring, he grabbed it up.

"Rob," the voice scolded. "That wasn't very nice."

"What do you want?" Rusty's voice was tight.

There was silence and Rusty could picture the smile on the man's face.

"I hear you're on your own."

Rusty closed his eyes and didn't reply.

"I wondered if you'd like some company."

"Leave me alone."

"I can think of some wonderful games to play."

"I said leave me alone!"

"Rob…" There was a tutting sound. "No need to be unfriendly, not after what we've shared…You know, you're looking good…"

Rusty pushed his fist into his mouth and bit down hard.

"I could always call in so that we can renew our acquaintance properly…"

"Keep away from me," spat Rusty pulling his hand free and ignoring the teeth marks around his knuckle.

There was a chuckle.

"Be seeing you, Rob."

The line went dead and Rusty forced his fingers to uncurl and drop the phone. The fear and the hatred and the loathing threatened to overwhelm him and he found himself wishing Danny had never gone away. Shaking, he went to the door and checked the locks one more time.


	5. The Games People Play

Ghosts by InSilva

Disclaimer: just taking them out of the toybox.

A/N: otherhawk, I hope it's horribler enough. :)

Chapter Five: The Games People Play

* * *

Danny couldn't avoid it any longer. He turned unwilling eyes on to the bed. It was just a bed, he told himself, probably not even _the _bed. It still belonged to the man who had earned a living by exploiting the needs of others – both sides of the coin if it came to that; by searching out men looking for illicit release and by taking boys at their most desperate and vulnerable and using them.

He thought back to when he'd met Rusty, nineteen and confident and able to use what God and Nature had blessed him with to look after himself: only a few years earlier and MacAvoy had enthralled his intelligence, his body and nearly his soul as well. Bad enough that MacAvoy did that to any boy but to do it to Rusty…

Sighing, Danny forced himself to get on with the task in hand and unzipped the bag Livingston had given him.

* * *

Rusty checked his watch: Lazy Lou was well-named in that he did not surface for business before four o'clock. As it was half-past now, Rusty felt safe in calling him.

"Rusty! Long time, no speak."

"How are you doing, Lou?"

"Can't complain."

Well, that was a lie because Rusty had heard him do so on many an occasion and he was almost certainly about to-

"My feet are just killing me, of course. Doctor can't do a damn thing with them."

"Doctors," Rusty sympathised.

"And you should see the neighbourhood now. It's getting to the stage where a man is frightened to put his head out of the door. And the police! Don't get me started!"

"Police," Rusty agreed.

"As for the divorce – you want to see what my ex-wife's demanding. Lawyer's just leeching everything I own."

"Uh-huh. Lawyers."

It was always best to wait and listen and sympathise: any attempt to cut in inevitably backfired.

"So what can I do you for?" Lou said unexpectedly sooner than Rusty had anticipated.

"What have you got that's hot that you're holding and trying to lose?"

He listened as Lou ran through a list and stopped him a couple of times to ask for more detail. Then he heard something that could work.

"What are the dates? And where?"

"A fortnight ago. Santa Monica."

It would work. A fortnight ago he'd been abroad and his passport could prove it.

"How much?"

"To take it off my hands?" Rusty could see the shrug. "You would be doing me a favour."

"OK, Lou. Thanks. Danny'll swing by and pick it up later if that's alright."

"Certainly, Rusty. Tell him to make it after seven though."

That'd be about right. Lou would need an afternoon nap.

* * *

He'd stopped at a department store, found what he was looking for in ladies' accessories and made the purchase, only throwing the assistant slightly when she asked what size waist and he replied, "I believe he's a 32".

Now, on the road back to Rusty, Danny's phone rang.

"You finished up?"

"Heading back. You speak to Lou?"

"Yeah. He's got a piece. Said you'd call by. He said to make it after seven."

"Is he charging?"

"Said he'd be grateful."

"Well, that's-"

"- absolutely."

"But after-"

"- oh, yeah."

There was a pause and then Danny asked, "You been OK?"

"Sure."

It came a little too quickly and Danny winced. He checked the time and did some calculations.

"I should be back about nine. But you wait for me."

"Yeah." Non-committal.

"I mean it, Rusty."

"Yeah." Unconvincing. "I'll see you."

The line went dead and Danny stared at the phone in his hand and swore loudly. Then he pressed the gas pedal further to the floor.

* * *

The knock on the door came about seven. It didn't sound like Danny and since he was supposed to be with Lou, it didn't seem likely that it was Danny either. Rusty was almost sure it wasn't MacAvoy and he hoped to God it wasn't… Still, he didn't make a sound. Then he heard Kirsty's voice.

"Mr Ryan?"

With relief, he snapped open all the locks and bolts and threw the door open. Kirsty was stood there alone, clutching a tray.

"Mr Ryan!" Kirsty's eyes were saucer-wide. "Your hair…"

He'd almost forgotten.

"Trying a different look, Kirsty."

"But your hair…" she whispered as he beckoned her in and shut the door behind her.

Rusty sighed as if caught out on a matter of pride. "Actually, Kirsty, I had a little accident. Didn't mean to take it quite as short as it ended up. Don't think I'm going to be sticking with it."

Kirsty nodded and looked reassured.

"Here's their room service tray, Mr Ryan," she said, setting it down on the side, her eyes wandering up to his hair. She reached inside her jacket and produced an envelope. "And here's the money."

Ignoring the cash and the food, Rusty took the cloth he'd prepared and one by one carefully picked up the glasses and the bottles and the cutlery and polished them. Satisfied, he relaid the tray and smiled at Kirsty, standing and not asking questions.

"Kirsty, you are an angel."

Her eyes met his and she blushed furiously.

* * *

It was just before nine when Danny bumped into Kirsty in the corridor outside Rusty's suite.

"Mr Diaz!" She sounded delighted and Danny's eyebrows rose slightly. "Oh, I'm so glad you're back. Mr Ryan's _hair_…"

The shock was tangible.

"Yes…" _Yes…_

"You're going to look after him, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am." _Yes, he was._

He saw the relief flood her face and she nodded and smiled.

* * *

Inside Rusty's suite, neat, little stacks of cash were tucked away in an envelope on the table and he found Rusty busy inspecting the empty glasses and bottles and the used cutlery on the tray Kirsty had just brought back to him.

"What have we got?"

"One set with nothing," Rusty said, wearing gloves and holding the fork up to the light. He picked up the champagne glass and smiled. "One set with."

_Better than nothing…_

Busy with the tape, Rusty asked, "How did you get on with Lou?"

Danny produced the plastic bag with the .45.

"He's still grateful."

There was a pause and then Rusty asked, "And how…how…what did you…"

Danny's face screwed itself up at the hesitation and the unspoken question. He pulled himself together and answered.

"Little one bedroom flat. Easy in. Easy to find what we needed to find and do what we needed to do."

Rusty's hands were steady as he lifted the prints and sealed them.

"MacAvoy's. When he's got the chance to drink it, he's a champagne kind of guy." He nodded at the beer bottle on the tray. "Everything else has been wiped."

"Sounds like someone who has reason to be hidden."

"Mmm." Rusty looked at the gun and shook his head irritably. "It's weak."

"It is," Danny agreed.

It was. But it was what they had to work with.

Danny's eyes were on Rusty. They'd talked about their next move and it was logical and needed but it didn't mean Danny was happy about it. He could already see that as badly unnerved as Rusty had been by MacAvoy's reappearance, it was the presence of the other man that had shaken him further. Deeper. Rusty was supposed to be acting as if he were all things terrified and Danny could see that the layer of pretence was perilously thin. Thinner than it should have been, actually, which possibly meant…

"Tell me about your day," Danny said casually and the sharp glance he got from Rusty told him he was right.

Rusty stared at him for a couple of seconds as if contemplating the lie and then he sighed.

"Had a phone call. From MacAvoy. Checking up on both of us."

Well, that might explain part of the unsettled feeling Danny was picking up from him. But he was sure he understood quite clearly what Rusty felt for MacAvoy: loathing, disgust and boundless anger about had it. He wasn't frightened of MacAvoy. Not now and not then. Which undoubtedly meant…

"Rus…?"

Rusty blinked at him and then his mouth set in a straight line.

"He phoned. Little cat and mouse. I played Jerry."

He leaned forward on to the back of a chair for a moment as if composing himself and then straightened up.

"I have to do it," he said, picking up the money and slipping it inside his jacket

_I know._

"I don't like it," Danny said, handing over the department store bag and watching Rusty delve inside.

_I know._

"It's necessary," Rusty replied, polishing the patent leather belt to a high shine and then threading it through the loops round his waist.

_I know._

"OK." He tucked the gun into the back of his waistband.

_I'm ready._

"I will come looking," Danny promised.

"You won't need to. I'll be fine."

"Rus…"

Without ever being able to explain why, just needing to and knowing it was needed, Danny put a hand up to Rusty's face. Rusty hesitated for a second and then leaned his cheek into it and closed his eyes.

* * *

Dinner was over and what a tasty one it had been. He settled himself down on the couch and flicked the TV on.

This whole experience was proving enjoyable. Such a happy sighting, so _rewarding_. The boy himself had been very profitable and now the boy was all grown-up and rich and this Mr Diaz obviously mattered so much. He was delighted to see what a valuable relationship it was. Fine living, fine dining and it wasn't over yet, not for a little while, a couple more days at least and then he would disappear without a word. Go back home with a tidy little sum. And when he'd worked his way through that, when things had settled down, when he'd been forgotten about…then he'd come back and pay another little visit.

The gleam in his eye was sharp and his vision of the future was rosy and well-fed and satisfied, he watched the opening titles of his favourite soap rolling and if he'd thought about it, he might have called the warm feeling inside happiness.

* * *

He stretched out on the bed, beer bottle in his right hand and listened to the TV blare into life and amusement twitched across his face. MacAvoy and his pet soaps. Another reason to despise the man if he needed one. Like he cared. He didn't care for anyone or anything.

Keeping in touch with MacAvoy had been on his terms. If he felt like it. If he was in the area. And the boys had been passing entertainment. Not that the sport had been as keen as the first boy from MacAvoy. Rob.

_"So." Amused. "By now, we both know I'm looking for a boy-"_

_"-I just have to be-"_

_"-careful." Soothing. "I understand. Questions are necessary. So. A boy."_

_"You got a preference? Brown hair? Red hair? What about blond? I've got some very accommodating blonds. Happy to do whatever." _

_The grin split the man's face. "Sure. Blond. Why not blond?"_

_The flat was shabby and barely furnished and he saw these things with disinterest. Instead, his attention was focused on the four boys who stood shoulder to shoulder in the front room as he walked in. About the same height, all fair-haired, all skinny. Three of them trying to look winning, trying to catch his eye while the fourth… The fourth stood nearest to him, on the end, his eyes fixed dead ahead on the…on the lampshade. The fourth had real beauty and beside him, the other three looked plain and coarse. The fourth…_

_He walked up and down the line once and stopped deliberately in front of the fourth, folding his arms, blocking his view of the lampshade and saw the boy's gaze drop down to the tattoo on his arm and seek to bury itself there. _

"_Him," he'd said and he'd felt the disappointment in the other three and the reluctance in the boy he'd selected. Oh, this needed to be explored further. _

_He followed the boy into the bedroom and watched him strip off and saw the way the boy was there and not there all at the same time and he decided not tonight. Tonight was about research. _

_Anticipation was to be savoured and denying himself was an intense kind of foreplay. He left it a few days and by the time he approached MacAvoy again, he was thinking about eyes that were anywhere but where they were and a mouth that hated what it did and a body that yielded itself up while the spirit blazed defiantly within. He was already impossibly hard._

_"I'm back."_

_"Was everything to your satisfaction?"_

_He smiled a little at MacAvoy's nervous tone. The man obviously did not like giving refunds._

_"Very much so. I want him again."_

_"Excellent!" MacAvoy beamed._

_"How much for one long, uninterrupted night?"_

_The shrewd look from MacAvoy told him that there was a rapid calculation going on in the man's head that came down to how much MacAvoy thought he could get away with charging. _

_"Of course, that's possible. My lad is very willing on that score."_

_There was a grin. "I bet."_

_"Mind you, the whole night...he's probably not going to be able to work the next day..."_

_The grin widened. "No. I doubt he will."_

_He saw MacAvoy hovering between greed and securing the deal before carefully quoting a figure. Just to annoy him, he nodded agreement without challenging it and knew that MacAvoy was kicking himself for not going higher._

_Back at the flat, he sat naked on the bed and waited. And when the blond had appeared, when he'd stripped off his clothes, when he'd stood there in front of him, he knew that tonight was going to be special. Because he was looking at strength and steel inside and there was self-hatred and there was anger and there was someone who despised everything he allowed to happen to him. And he was going to be so much fun to break._

Rob. The man grinned and let out a satisfied sigh and took a swig of beer. Men did nothing for him. Age took away the purity of vulnerability and experience laid calluses over the soul. But Rob… Oh, he'd had to come have a look see.

Rob. Still beautiful. Still beautifully susceptible to being ripped apart with a few words, a few deliberate touches. Rob hadn't forgotten him. And it was good to know where he lived because he could already feel himself growing restless. Another day or so in town at most maybe. But that didn't mean he couldn't call by another time. And it didn't mean he couldn't enjoy himself right now.

* * *

Rusty stood in front of the Cleveland suite and drew a breath. For all the reassurance he'd thrown at Danny, he didn't like it much either. Still, it had to be done. He knocked on the door. It opened and the face of his nightmares stood in front of him. Rusty thanked his stars that he'd seen the CCTV still earlier: at least it prepared him a little. Even so, it took every bit of resolve within him to stay there, holding the amused stare.

The man's eyes travelled over what was left of Rusty's hair and gave a deep chuckle. Rusty gritted his teeth.

"Come on in, Rob."

Beer in one hand, shirt sleeves rolled up, tattoo exposed, he held the door halfway open and Rusty edged through sideways, moving through personal space he really didn't want to.

MacAvoy was curled up on the couch, watching the TV.

"Come on in, lad," he said, not taking his eyes off the screen, "be with you in a moment."

Rusty drew another deep breath and tried to hide the fact that he was doing so.

"You'll have to forgive him. He gets a little distracted with the soaps."

He was somewhere behind him, somewhere between him and the door and Rusty's mouth tightened. He turned and the man was leaning against the wall, sipping the beer.

"Been a while, Rob."

"Not long enough." Never wouldn't be long enough.

"Swung back your way that Fall," the man said casually. "Wanted to look you up. You want to know what I had in mind?"

He'd come back? He'd been looking for him?

"Was gonna rent a room. Keep the lights down low. Figured I'd ask for two of you. Bit of double action." A grin at the way Rusty's mouth twisted. "I'd have been very generous. Very persuasive. Sure MacAvoy would have made you an offer you couldn't refuse."

Rusty hid the shiver with difficulty. In the last few months before Saul had found him, MacAvoy had started suggesting there were other things and more money if Rusty knew what he meant. Other things and more money and wasn't that always the way with MacAvoy?

"I'd never have let you anywhere near me-" he began fiercely.

"Oh, I'd have sat back in the shadows and enjoyed the show. One of you submissive, one of you dominant. What d'ya reckon, Rob? You want to be tied up and blindfolded? Or you want to be the one in charge?" There was a low laugh. "We both know the answer to that question."

Unblinking, Rusty stared at him, his mouth parted slightly in disbelief and horror. _A room and a bed and shadows surrounding it and darkness everywhere and…and…being tied up…or worse than that…_

"And after a while…" the man shrugged. "I'd have introduced myself…"

"Finished," MacAvoy said brightly, hitting the off switch and with ridiculous gratitude, Rusty turned his head in MacAvoy's direction as he looked up at Rusty and did a double take. "Whatever have you done to your hair, lad?"

"Fancied a change," Rusty said expressionlessly.

"I like it, Rob," said the man with the tattoo. "Makes you look…boyish."

Rusty bit his lip briefly before remembering. He didn't want to give the man any more ammunition than he already had.

"I remember the last time you did that," MacAvoy said, getting to his feet. "It does nothing for your looks, you know."

There was a laugh from behind him and with difficulty, Rusty didn't react.

"I brought your money," he said and pulled the envelope out of his pocket.

MacAvoy grabbed it greedily and started counting.

"A nice, healthy sum, lad. You must care about your Mr Diaz more than I realised."

"I don't want you to tell him anything," Rusty said and flavoured his words with truth. "Not a thing."

He turned his head and looked at the man propped nonchalantly up against the wall, empty beer bottle on the floor beside him. "Either of you." Rusty dropped back in front of the full length mirrored wardrobes so that he had both of them in his sights. "And I want you both to leave."

"Oh, that's not going to happen!" MacAvoy smiled. "We're very comfortable here. We're not ready to leave just yet."

Licking his lips, Rusty pulled the gun from behind his back and brandished it at the pair of them.

"I'm not afraid to use this," he said, his voice shaking slightly. "I mean it. You get out of here and you keep going."

He was pleased to see the smile slide right off MacAvoy's face to be replaced by a suitably perturbed expression. MacAvoy had obviously never been threatened enough in his life.

"Lad…don't do anything hasty…"

"I'm not going to stand for it any more!" Rusty's voice grew shriller. "You clear out and you leave me alone!"

There was silence for a moment and then…

"You're not going to shoot anyone, Rob."

The voice was laughing and confident and its owner strode across the room until he was stood in front of Rusty. He was still taller but only by a couple of inches. Rusty pushed away the memory of looking up at this man, of being _made_ to look up at this man...

"I will shoot," Rusty promised.

The man's hand closed round the gun and pulled it free.

"Sure you will, Rob, soon as you learn to take the safety off," he said. He stood spinning the barrel and his smile grew wide. "And load it with bullets."

The look of disdainful amusement in the man's eyes made Rusty swallow hard. It was all too close, all too painful and then the man reached out and touched his face, his hand exactly where Danny's hand had been with none of the same sentiment.

"This was definitely not allowed."

Rusty jerked his head free and glared at him.

"Hands up," the man said, pushing the gun into a back pocket. "Need to frisk you."

"Need to…?"

"Hands up, Rob," said the voice that brooked no dissent and the man moved behind him.

Slowly, Rusty raised his hands and with immense effort, held himself still and forced himself to look at MacAvoy's vile and cheery smile that was back on his face, at MacAvoy clutching the money, at…damn it, why were these rooms patternless? Hands reached round him and slowly patted his chest down.

"Your heart's racing," said the voice and Rusty bit back on the shudder.

Fingers travelled lingeringly down to Rusty's waist and sat on his hips and Rusty's control nearly went. Only sheer force of will kept his feet planted to the floor and his hands still in the air. The urge to punch and run was as strong as it ever could be. Then the man's hands were on his shoulders and he felt himself spun round to face the mirrors behind him.

"Hands on the wardrobe," the man ordered and then added with more than a hint of suggestion, "Spread your legs."

Reluctantly, Rusty obeyed and saw the eyes on his, eyes that were still knowing…still amused…full of unspoken memories.

"Just like old times, Rob."

The man dropped to his knees and ran his hands leisurely over Rusty's legs. Then he stood up again and held Rusty's stare.

"He's clean," he said, the laughter loud in his eyes, standing behind Rusty and then his gaze dropped on to Rusty's right hand and with a sudden movement, he pushed up against Rusty the glass.

Instinctively, Rusty reacted, pushing backwards, and the man leant in harder, pinning him in place, using his weight, his hand grabbing Rusty's, his fingers pulling at Rusty's.

"What's this, Rob?"

No…no… And he fought and fought to free himself and all he was up against was the weight of the man and the weight of the memory and just the closeness and the feeling of him pressed against him and he wasn't feeble, he wasn't powerless but he was because he couldn't stop the man, he couldn't stop him and there was an arm wrapped round his throat and a hand holding his wrist and-

"MacAvoy. Get over here."

The command was barked and even as MacAvoy obeyed, Rusty was balling his right fist tightly.

"Rob seems rather attached to his jewellery." The man's mouth was up against his ear and he had to work hard to stifle the moan.

MacAvoy was busy at once, prising his fingers open and there was nothing Rusty could do to stop him. His silver ring was pulled free.

"…_for the right reasons_…" MacAvoy read and the snarl in Rusty was choked off by the arm around his neck.

"Here." The man held out his hand even as Rusty tried to snatch it back from MacAvoy and then the arm disappeared and there was a push in the middle of Rusty's back and he spun round to see the ring in the man's fingers.

"Sentimental little message…a gift from lover boy? He going to be angry if you've misplaced it?"

Inside, he was screaming. He was going to charge forward and tear the ring from the man's grasp and-and- Rusty's face contorted. He couldn't. Somewhere there was a whisper of understanding and anger and love and it breathed his name and it told him that there was more at stake than a ring.

"Oh…oh, I think I found a nerve…someone's very attached to this."

There was a hard gleam in the man's eye and MacAvoy was laughing. MacAvoy didn't even see all the pain.

"Alright, Rob. You run along now. Mr MacAvoy and I expect to see you tomorrow night."

"Yes, lad," MacAvoy's eyes were full of venal joy. "See if you can improve on tonight's amount."

"No." It was barely above a whisper and it was barely an act.

"Yes."

The man corrected him and Rusty let the defeat show in his face and the slump of his shoulders.

"I'd like my gun back," Rusty said. "And my ring."

"Think the ring'll be missed, Rob?"

And there was no right answer to that. "Yes," he said heavily and watched the grin on the other's face. "I want my gun and I want my ring."

The man tutted. "Aren't you going to say please?"

The word choked in Rusty's mouth. He forced it out.

"Please." It tasted sour in his mouth.

"Not tonight, Rob. Maybe tomorrow. If you work on that 'please'."

With immense self-control, he made it out of the room and away from the eyes that followed him without shaking. He managed not to run along the corridors. He reached his suite without breaking down. And then Danny threw the door open and saw his eyes and swore and pulled him inside and closed out the rest of the world.


	6. Getting Inside

Ghosts by InSilva

Disclaimer: am writing this from undisclosed location. You haven't seen me.

A/N: er, kenzimone? This is what I meant by fic loves a challenge. :)

Chapter Six: Getting Inside

* * *

"He kept the gun," Rusty said, pulling his jacket off and dropping it to the floor.

Danny nodded. His eyes dropped down to Rusty's waist. Rusty rummaged in a drawer and handed a pair of scissors to Danny.

"Cut it free," he instructed, undoing the belt buckle and at Danny's raised eyebrow, adding, "I'm never wearing these again."

Not wanting to think too closely about the reasons why, Danny snipped through the loops of material and carefully pulled the belt free, holding it by the edges. He held it up to the light and they studied it. Two good thumb prints and at least three others that were usable.

_Got him._

A smile started on Danny's face and he felt confident it finished on Rusty's up until he glanced up and saw that it didn't and he wanted to ask, the questions were bubbling under but Rusty's eyes were telling him he wasn't ready to share. _Not yet_, he was being told and he tilted his head in acknowledgement and offered up the pledge that he would hold Rusty to the promise to tell him in the future. Then Danny dropped his gaze and turned and fished out the other plastic bag that Lazy Lou had given him.

"I'll get busy with this."

Rusty was already out of the rest of his clothes. He pulled a bathrobe on and sat on the couch as Danny worked painstakingly to lift a print and plant it inside the leather wallet.

"Tess is OK." He'd called her in the car and there had been a conversation where she hadn't asked and she hadn't said and still the need for reassurance was being screamed down the phone at him: he'd obliged. "And I called Bobby," Danny went on. "He's meeting me at Luigi's in ten minutes or so."

He got little more than a nod from Rusty and that really wasn't good.

"You want to come with me?" he offered.

"No. I want to shower." Tight. Close to the edge.

And Danny realised he was waiting to throw all the locks once he was on his own.

"I'll be as quick as I can."

He put the bag with the wallet in his pocket and picked up the things he was taking to Bobby and left.

* * *

Standing in the shower, Rusty reached up to turn on the water and glanced down at his right hand, at the finger that felt naked and bit back on the fury and the horror of the violation. He didn't have many material things that mattered to him. Maybe the Mustang but even so, it was only a car in the way the hotel was only a hotel. The ring was Saul and Annie and love and caring and he hated that it was missing: the fact that MacAvoy had handled it, that it was now in the other's possession was unbearable.

The shower jets were warm and raking and Rusty let the water scour his skin, wishing there was a visible layer of dirt that could disappear. It had been bad enough to hear the man, to see the man, but to feel his hands on his body…to remember the smell and the taste of him…to listen to what might have been… Rusty put his hands out against the shower wall and bowed his head, letting the water run down over his neck and shoulders and screwed his eyes up.

_He no longer has any idea of time. He could have been trapped in this room for one hour or for seven. All there is is this man. And whether he gets out of this room depends on this man, this man who is waiting for him to break._

_As he waits for further instruction, as he waits for the odious "Rob…" he looks at the man's eyes. All-knowing. All-powerful. Pitiless. He swallows._

"_You don't seem to be enjoying yourself much, Rob," comes the amused comment. _

_He knows better than to reply. The other just wants some material to play off._

"_You ever fucked anyone, Rob? Anyone ever let you inside them?"_

_The suggestion eats its way under his skin and he feels the cold sweat between his shoulderblades. He is certain the man is playing with him. He doesn't seem the sort to let anyone else take control. Even so, the panic rises up afresh because this would destroy him, he is sure. He keeps his face blank._

"_Don't tell me you're not thinking about it, Rob. Wouldn't you like to be in the driver's seat for a change?"_

_The man lies down on his back and spreads his legs and Rusty can feel the shaking starting in his limbs._

"_What's the matter, Rob? Aren't I your type?" He laughs at his own joke. "Tell you what. Why don't you hop on instead? Maybe, this time…"_

Rusty turned up the heat on the shower and let it blast his skin some more.

* * *

Bobby was sitting at a side table in Luigi's when Danny entered.

"You are sure about this?" he asked and it was more than a casual question. Bobby needed to know this was absolutely necessary. Danny nodded and Bobby immediately became business-like and focused. "Alright then. What have we got?"

Danny handed over the disk with the CCTV footage.

"Older man is MacAvoy. The younger man-"

"Whoa! Younger man?"

"Yeah." Danny held his gaze unblinking and eventually Bobby looked away. "The younger man is connected to a murder in Santa Monica a fortnight ago. When searched, he will have a gun and a wallet that tie him to the crime. These are his prints and this is a belt with his prints on."

He handed the other set of prints over to Bobby. "These are MacAvoy's. There is enough evidence at his flat to convict him ten times over. This is the address." Danny wrote it out.

"You got a name for the other man?"

"Nope. All I know is he's got a tattoo of a fish on his arm."

"A fish?" Bobby looked at him sharply. "What sort of fish?"

Danny shrugged. "A goldfish. I don't know. Why? Is it important?"

"Maybe…" he frowned. "OK, we clear on what's happening?"

"It has to be tomorrow."

"Tomorrow!" Bobby swore vividly.

"Can't guarantee we can keep them there longer."

There was a pause while Bobby did some mental calculations and then, "Alright…"

* * *

Rusty was still in his bathrobe and the clothes he'd shed were still piled in a heap on the floor. Danny made a mental note to dispose of them soonest. He'd brought pizza back with him because he'd rarely known Rusty say no but tonight was one of those times.

"Whisky?" he asked, putting the pizza box on the table and with a shrug, Rusty held up the half-empty bottle of malt.

Danny exhaled slowly. This needed talking through.

* * *

The room was lit by only a couple of desk lamps. They were side by side on the couch and the second bottle of whisky had been opened.

"I told Bobby it had to be tomorrow."

Rusty nodded and Danny waited.

"MacAvoy's about the money," he said, adding with bitterness in his voice, "He's only ever been about the money. As long as he thinks he can squeeze me he'll stay put. The other…" He looked down at the whisky glass. "It's all about the game."

"What happened?" Danny asked softly and Rusty gave a mirthless smile and took another swig of whisky. Danny frowned as he did so because something was wrong with the picture. There should have been a glint of light on silver. There should have been… His hand shot out to pull Rusty's arm back down, his eyes locked on the hand holding the whisky glass.

"Your-"

"He took it. He kept it."

Danny swore and Rusty shut his eyes and when he spoke again, his voice was low and pained.

"Don't know if I can explain it, Danny, but I'll try. All the things…" he licked his lips and then went on, "All the things that have been done to me. He's the worst."

Worse than the rest of his time with MacAvoy put together. Worse than time spent with Eddie Lavelle. Worse than anything Vincente had done. Worse than any of the other times he'd found himself between a rock and a hard place. The complete violation of body and soul.

"He gets right inside my head. Just a look and I can feel him…" His mouth twisted and Danny's grip on Rusty's arm tightened. "It's like I'm right back there. I haven't forgotten and neither has he. Not a moment of it."

He opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling and shook himself.

"I want to fight him, Danny. I'm thinking about going back in there tomorrow and things being different. But it's not going to happen. I just freeze. Tonight, he looked at me and I know he knew exactly what happened to my hair and why. MacAvoy," and he said the name with angry bitterness that was still also aimed inwards, "MacAvoy didn't have a clue but _he_…he knew. And it amuses him to think that even after all this damn time he could get to me."

Danny reached for the whisky bottle and topped up their glasses. The need to talk and to listen was clear on each side.

"When he was running his hands over me…when he had his hands on my waist…" Rusty shuddered and took a swig of malt. "I kept telling myself it was for effect and that was all. That he just wanted to make me feel like I was sixteen…to make me feel the dirt all over again…"

He drained the whisky and coughed. "He succeeded. Hell, he didn't even have to touch me to succeed." He studied the bottom of the empty glass. "Danny…when did I get so fucking useless?"

Danny put his own whisky glass down and pulled Rusty's from his unresisting fingers.

"The one thing you will never, ever be is useless. Tomorrow, this ends." He stood up and pulled Rusty to his feet.

"Bed," he said.

* * *

His arms wrapped around Rusty as he slept, Danny lay and thought not for the first time about chance meetings and how they changed your life and about the beach from back whenever when he'd known – _known­­_ – he had to help this man, this boy, whom he'd met hours earlier, even if it screwed his plans over completely. And it hadn't even been about humanity. It had been about an utter need to protect. It had been about someone he'd instinctively known was going to be important to him. It had been about doing what was right – not in an abstract sense, but in an absolute sense: he could not have acted differently.

The parts of Rusty's background that he'd shared early on had hurt like fury. Danny had always had to push away the thoughts of Rusty in thrall, trapped and knowing it. The man with the fish tattoo had seen the truth, Danny was sure; seen Rusty's intelligence and self-disgust and used them both against Rusty. And he was still doing it.

Danny's arms tightened.

* * *

The dreams came short and sharp, stinging across his mind like lashes from a whip. Nothing lasting, scenes of humiliation and shame, a little stepping stone path of pain and torment.

He woke up in a cold sweat and felt Danny's arms and the loving comfort around him and he lay and listened to his heartbeat drop down to its normal level.

"Y'alright?" Danny. Sleepy. One eye opened.

"You worry too much," he whispered lightly and reached up and squeezed Danny's arm even as he heard the snort.

* * *

Morning came. They washed and dressed and Danny caught Rusty's eye in the mirror by the door.

_Ready?_

_Yeah._

They spent the day together in and around the hotel, in public, on show, a little more together together than usual. Rusty reached over and wiped a stray crumb from Danny's mouth with his thumb over breakfast. Danny insisted that Rusty try his dessert at lunch, reaching over the table with a spoonful of chocolate mousse. They spent dinner leaning forward, staring intently at each other as they talked. The act hadn't been that hard to put on: they just had to remember it was an act and for everything to become a little more intense.

* * *

Sometime in the early afternoon, routine took place.

Her grandson had bought her a little music machine to listen to while she worked. With a tape of Latin music playing through her headphones, Pauletta pushed the trolley up to Mr Ryan's suite and dug out her personal key. She opened the door and rolled the equipment and herself inside, letting the door close by itself as she waddled in.

Pauletta started in the bedroom, stripping the linen off the bed and humming to herself as she worked. When she'd finished, she tackled the bathroom and freshened it up before moving on to the kitchen that rarely needed much cleaning. She picked up the room service tray with the plates and glasses and left the tres leches cake that Mr Ryan liked so much on the side. She tidied up the living area then gave a final glance round before leaving and smiled to herself.

Neat and tidy and clean. Mr Ryan would be pleased.

* * *

By the time Danny and Rusty had reached Rusty's suite with a sizeable share of the day's takings in Rusty's possession, they were the topic of conversation for all the hotel staff and quite a few guests.

"Kirsty will be picking out a hat," Rusty said.

"Somebody better tell Tess."

"We could send her an invite."

"You're feeling brave."

Rusty's comeback was interrupted by the phone. They watched it ring.

"It's probably Kirsty wanting to know the date."

"Yeah."

Neither of them sounded that convinced. They both continued to look at the ringing phone and then Danny went to the second handset and with wordless agreement, they picked up together.

"Hello?" Rusty said tentatively.

"Well, good evening, Rob. How's your day been?"

Rusty's fingers tightened on the phone and unwillingly he looked over at Danny, stony-faced, his hand covering the mouthpiece.

When Rusty didn't answer, the man went on, "You took a while to answer, Rob. Were you tied up? Didn't interrupt anything did I?"

"No." Understanding immediately and sharp.

Rusty watched Danny's expression dissolve from concern into tight-lipped revulsion as he realised.

"A little too quick, Rob. Where is your friend anyway?"

"He's in the bath."

"Likes to stay clean, does he? Whatever is he doing with you?"

He felt the old fear rise up in him and the fingernails of his free hand dug deep into his palm as he told himself it wasn't true, it wasn't who he was then, it wasn't who he was now…

"Is there a point to this?"

"I saw you with him."

That had been the reason for the act: show enough that there would be enough to keep the pair sitting in the Cleveland suite waiting for the cash and enjoying the sport. It still felt like an intrusion to think that they had been watched.

"He's rather dark and handsome, Rob. I should be flattered, don't you think? That you picked someone in my image."

"He's nothing like you," Rusty said, letting the anger that was not a lie show.

"What's he like in bed, Rob? When he touches you, do you think of me? When you're busy pleasing him, do you remember what you did for me? Does he fill you like I did? Does he taste the same? Can he last the way I-"

"Shut up!" Passionate through clenched teeth and meaning it. "Shut the fuck up!"

There was laughter on the other end of the phone. Rusty was trembling and he daren't look at Danny.

"What did he think about your haircut, Rob? Did he understand that it was just for me? Did he realise that you just couldn't bear to feel my fingers wrapping themselves in all that lovely blond?"

He couldn't say anything. All he could do was bury his mouth in his hand and try to hold on to any noise that might rise up unbidden. He barely noticed Danny reach out and lay a hand of comfort on his arm.

"Talk to me, Rob. Has he noticed you're not wearing his ring yet?"

There was a sudden thump at the door that made both of them turn.

"That's me, Rob. Don't you want to let me in?"

He couldn't stop the choking gasp and he heard the chuckle at the other end of the phone.

"Leave me alone." Weary and defeated and not at all hopeful and not completely a pretence.

"Just so that you're clear, MacAvoy is interested in the money. As for me…I think I want a little more personal commitment on your part as to how badly you don't want your friend to find out."

"What do you mean?" Rusty's mouth was dry. He felt he knew very well what the man meant.

"Oh, Rob…" there was amusement in the voice. "You want me to spell it out for you?"

No. No, he didn't. He really, really didn't. But that wouldn't stop the man doing just that.

"I've been wondering whether you're as clever with your mouth as you used to be. You want to come out here and drop to your knees and show me? I'm ready for you, Rob. Or do you want to find a room? Somewhere a little more private where you can be a little more uninhibited. Lots of rooms here at the hotel, Rob. And I know the owner. In the biblical sense."

Oh, he couldn't answer. He couldn't say a thing to stem the flow. Every word scraped inside him. Every insinuation barbed through him.

And then he heard Danny calling from the bathroom.

"Rob? Waiting for you."

There was a sigh from the other end of the phone.

"I heard that. Seems like you're in demand, Rob… You'd better run along and keep your man satisfied and I'd better disappear. Unless you want me to join the party? No? Guess I'll just have to wait to see you later, then. Looking forward to it. And pleasant dreams, Rob."

The call ended and Rusty looked at the phone in his hand and at the door and at Danny, stood in the doorway of the bathroom.

* * *

He heard the man's voice for the first time and he already hated the sound of it because he could see the effect it had on Rusty.

The innuendo started raining down the phone line and he could see Rusty going paler with every sly word, he could see him begin to shake and when the haircut was mentioned, he'd had to go and lay a hand on Rusty's arm to reassure.

The bang on the door had startled him but he was more disturbed by the noise it produced from Rusty and the laughter from the man at the other end of the phone. The man seemed to know exactly what to do to generate a result.

The suggestions started again and Danny swallowed hard as he saw Rusty powerless to stop the torrent. Well, maybe Rusty couldn't. But he could.

He went to the bathroom to make sure the acoustics were right and called out and saw Rusty blink as if he'd forgotten Danny was even present. His words had the desired effect and the man hung up and he looked at Rusty, raw and vulnerable and part of him wanted to cross the room and hold Rusty tightly until his colour approached normal levels and the shaking was safely locked down and the repartee was back in place and the other part of him wanted to run to the door, tear it open and find the bastard.

Danny went with his first thought.

* * *

Later and he'd gone to the kitchen to find whisky and had found cake instead.

"Pauletta," Rusty said at his shoulder as if it explained everything and Danny shrugged and cut two slices.

He bit into it and it was sweet and moist and he glanced at Rusty eating the cake silently and with his eyes open and his mind elsewhere and he sighed. Then he frowned.

_What is it?_

_Not sure…_

The cake went down on the side and Rusty copied his action.

"Something he said. It felt like it had meaning," Danny puzzled aloud.

He started to play back the telephone conversation in his head and he saw Rusty doing the same. It hit them simultaneously.

"No…" Rusty shook his head with disbelief.

Danny was already moving. He sped into the bedroom and hit the lights and studied the room. He felt Rusty arrive and do the same. Nothing was out of the ordinary. Everything was neat and tidy and clean.

With a horrible premonition, Danny approached the bed and pulled back the duvet and heard the gasp of horror from behind him. There was a plain brown A4 envelope lying on the sheet with "Rob" written in a firm, bold hand, the letters standing out starkly. Danny picked it up.

"He was here…"

It was barely breathed and Danny span round. Rusty was looking at his room as if it were unfamiliar, as if he couldn't trust it and then Rusty's gaze fell back down on the bed and his eyes closed and his face creased and he slumped back against the wall.

"Rus!" Danny stood in front of him helplessly and watched as the fear shuddered through Rusty.

Rusty opened his eyes and there was the mix of emotions Danny saw made him want to scream. Fear was still there and anger and self-disgust that he was afraid and misery and hatred turned inside and out and Danny grabbed him by the shoulders and made him look at him.

"Rus. I got you. You're safe."

The laughter wasn't like any he had ever heard from Rusty. Before he could say another word, Rusty had snatched the envelope from him and tore it open, thrusting his hand inside.

"Let's see what he has to…"

They looked down together at the contents and somewhere, some part of Danny was certain they had both stopped breathing.

* * *

Polaroid photos. Ten or twenty or thirty. Some blurry, suggestive, letting the viewer decipher the image. Others in sharp and unforgiving focus.

A boy. A blond-haired boy whose eyes were never seen. Lips that were parted in semblance of enjoyment. Legs that were spread with invitation. A mouth and hands that were busy. And on the right hand, on the ring finger…

The photos spilled from Rusty's grip and he looked up at Danny and saw the loathing and the distaste and he hung his head and closed his eyes as the shame washed over him, burning in his cheeks. It wasn't him. Obviously, it wasn't him. But it could have been. One time it was. One time it had been him permitting the submission of self, compliant, obedient, letting men do what they wanted, letting them use him, letting them buy the right to him while he gave up the right to ever feel clean again-

He gasped as Danny's arms shot round him, burying him in an embrace that refused to let him blame himself, refused to let him ever imagine he'd had a choice. He hid his face in Danny's shoulder and he heard _I got you_ and he slowly relaxed into everything that was antipathetic of the man with the swordfish tattoo. After a while he pulled free.

"You want to know how many times you've had your arms around me the past few days?" he asked and he saw Danny's face lighten at the levity.

"There are times when it's just unavoidable," Danny told him and there was a hint of semi-serious.

Rusty shook his head and then the comeback died on his lips as he bent down and snatched up a handful of photos, studying them. He was aware that Danny was doing the same and he knew Danny understood the sudden panic within him.

"No," Danny said confidently. "Look. Light's wrong. And here you can see flock wallpaper. And this one has got the sheets in and they're not yours."

He breathed out and nodded. Danny was right. Thank God. Thank God.

"You're not too bad at details when you concentrate," he told him.

Danny shrugged. "Learned from the best."

"He was here," Rusty said again looking unhappily round the room.

"After tonight he's never going to be a problem again. Neither of them will be," Danny promised and Rusty hesitated.

"What if it doesn't work? What if…what if…?"

* * *

Danny saw the wretchedness in Rusty and the continuing persecution that he dreaded and he kept his own face carefully blank. Because if it didn't work, he knew exactly what he would do and it didn't involve asking Rusty for his view.

"It will work," he promised again. "You'll be safe." And he put everything he had into the words and saw the belief return to Rusty's eyes.


	7. Darkness

Ghosts by InSilva

Disclaimer: don't own. Just torment.

A/N: This chapter follows on immediately from the end of the last chapter.

Chapter Seven: Darkness

* * *

As they stood in the bedroom and Danny promised all in his power to keep Rusty safe with words and will and whispers of thoughts that he didn't let Rusty hear, Danny's phone rang.

"Hi, Bobby," he said and smiled at Rusty because this was the call that was going to set things in motion. This was the point that would tip things into their favour; the top of the rollercoaster.

"I'm sorry, Danny."

He heard the words and he couldn't keep them off his face and he saw Rusty register them.

"Sorry, Danny," Bobby said again, "it's not going to be tonight. Tomorrow, I hope."

"Not tonight?" Danny repeated. "What do you mean not tonight and tomorrow you hope?"

"Danny, I'm sorry, I don't actually run the FBI, you know."

"Bobby…" Danny ran a hand over his mouth and turned and looked at the bed, its duvet pulled back and thought fiercely of how far the man with the tattoo had encroached in such a short space of time.

"Bobby," he went on, his voice low, "I'm not sure we've got another day."

And he was partly thinking about keeping both bastards visible and wholly thinking about Rusty. Because there was so much happening that Danny was frightened by and for him.

"We've just had a major breakthrough on a case we've been working on for months," Bobby said by way of explanation. "Resource is not mine to command."

"Please, Bobby," Danny closed his eyes and the prayer was heartfelt. "Please."

"I am trying, Danny, I swear. If it's not tomorrow, it'll definitely be the next day if I have to drag people back from annual leave to make it happen."

"Bobby-" Danny was staring down at the place where the envelope had been carefully left.

"Danny," and Bobby's voice dropped into low and earnest tones. "Danny, I know this is important or you wouldn't be asking. Believe me when I say I'm doing everything I can."

He sighed. "I know you are, Bobby. It's just…"

"I'll call you tomorrow. Give you an update. OK?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Bobby."

He hung up and ran his fingers through his hair. Two more days. He had to tell Rusty that this nightmare wouldn't be ending tonight, possibly not even tomorrow.

With a heavy heart, he turned and saw that Rusty was no longer by the door.

"Rus…?"

Danny wandered through into the living area and then realised and shouted a loud stream of obscenities. Rusty was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

He'd seen Danny's face and he'd heard Danny's words and he'd worked out that tonight was not happening. And he understood that that could be a problem. If MacAvoy or the other slipped away, they'd lose the moment and that would be…agonising. The practical in him took over and didn't let him think as he faded out of the bedroom and stole silently from the suite and knocked on the door.

MacAvoy opened it, champagne glass in hand.

"Oh, come in, lad." He sounded delighted.

Rusty followed him back into the room and closed the door behind him. There was no sign of the other man and conflicting emotions of relief and fear ran through Rusty, because he wasn't there but if he wasn't there, he wasn't there and the plan would fall through. MacAvoy seemed oblivious to the glances Rusty was throwing around the suite.

"I've had a lovely, relaxing day," he beamed. "You have a great hotel here, lad…Rob."

At the sound of the name, he suddenly had Rusty's full attention.

"It is Rob, isn't it?" MacAvoy said as if they had been introduced once before and had bumped into each other again. "Rob Ryan. It suits you, lad."

He stared at MacAvoy. MacAvoy had never, ever bothered with his name in all the time he'd worked for him. And he hadn't realised until now how grateful he was for that.

"Here's the money," Rusty whispered, his voice jagged.

MacAvoy didn't notice anything except the bundle of notes and he took it from Rusty greedily.

"Just like the old days, Rob," he said and Rusty bit his lip. "That was one thing I really liked about working with you, you know."

He didn't ask. He didn't want to ask. MacAvoy told him anyway.

"You were never any trouble, lad. You never complained or whined or came crying. You were happy in your work."

"_Happy?"_ The word ripped itself incredulously out of Rusty. "You think I was _happy?"_

Nearly a year of the unbearable and the excruciating and how could MacAvoy not see? How could he not know?

"How deluded were you?" Rusty snarled. "How deluded _are_ you?"

MacAvoy looked taken aback. "Lad, lad. I didn't mean to upset you. I was complimenting you. You were really good at what you did."

MacAvoy's face, cheerful and hateful, swam before his eyes and words and breath choked up inside him. He took a faltering step to one side and clutched at a chair for support. Dimly, he was aware of MacAvoy speaking again.

"Don't mind me, lad. Time to catch up on my soaps." He deposited himself on the couch and hearing the dismissal, Rusty turned to leave.

"Oh!" MacAvoy called after him. "Nearly forgot. He wants to show you something."

There was no doubting who "he" was and ice snaked down Rusty's back.

"What…?" he licked suddenly dry lips and turned round to face MacAvoy. "Where…?"

"In the second bedroom." MacAvoy's eyes were glued to the TV screen. "Said you'd want to see."

Rusty looked at the handle to the closed door at the side of the room. He didn't have to open it. He could walk away and back to Danny and he didn't have to see the man at all.

"Something about your ring…" MacAvoy said absent-mindedly and Rusty sighed. Because now he couldn't walk away.

Leaden-hearted, he opened the door to the room and walked a step inside and the world stopped.

* * *

Back in Rusty's suite, Danny was close to exploding with impotent fury. He couldn't leave, he couldn't chase after Rusty, he couldn't break down the door to the Cleveland suite and use his fists to protect and to hit and to hurt. There was strategy. There was a scheme. And there was so much at stake and he couldn't blow it. Not even for the satisfaction of it all.

Danny paced and fumed and then his phone rang and he snatched at it.

"Bobby?" he barked.

"Danny?" It was Tess.

It took a full second for him to regain control and for him to strip the anger and the tension away.

"Tess…oh, Tess."

"You sounded-"

"I'm sorry about that. I thought you were-"

"-Bobby. Obviously. Danny, are you OK?"

"Tess, I'm…" _Screaming inside and out? _"…I've just had a difficult day. We thought we were going to get rid of the problem at the hotel and it just didn't happen."

There was real frustration in his voice and Tess gave a sympathetic sigh.

"But I'm OK," he told her. "Better for hearing you. And this is going to be over very, very soon."

He sold her it like it was the truth because he desperately wanted to believe it.

"OK, Danny," she said. "I love you."

"I love you too. So very much."

Danny ended the call and gripped the phone tightly in his hand. He had to have told Tess the truth. He just wouldn't accept that this agony didn't have an end.

* * *

His eyes were busy telling his brain that it had to believe them and his brain was occupied in doing its best not to process the images.

The bed. The bed with the covers thrown back. A teenage boy, face down, his head turned away. A hand knotted into the blond hair, keeping the boy in place. The hand and the tattoo and the man. The man on top. Rhythm and rocking and there were tiny little noises in the room that Rusty wanted to pretend he wasn't hearing and that he'd never heard before. Little breaths and little pants and his fingernails buried themselves into his palms hard.

The man was looking at him and grinning and not stopping, not stopping and Rusty resisted the urge to bury his knuckle in his mouth and bite hard.

"Evening," said the man. "Let me introduce you. This is Rob."

His eyes were on Rusty's.

"You love me fucking you, don't you, Rob?"

"Yes," came the slightly muffled answer. "Yes, I love it."

"Why's that, Rob?" Eyes, dark and knowing, pinned Rusty to the spot. "Tell me why you love to be fucked."

"Because…" There was a pause and then, "because I'm a fucking whore?"

There was a hint of uncertainty and the lines had been coached but Rusty heard only the words and not the tone.

"That's right, Rob. You're a fucking whore. You are and you always will be."

Rusty couldn't keep the emotion off his face: denial and disgust danced across it. He heard the laughter and he saw the delight and there might have been a reason to act as if he were horrified and frightened but reason was evaporating and he didn't need to act because it was true, it was all true and the fear was the truth and he knew it and this man knew it and twenty-five years didn't matter, didn't count. He could be the best at any and every thing and all he was doing was living in denial. Saul and Annie and love and lessons and none of it changed what he was, what he'd done, nothing and no one could make him feel different, no one could… Danny. He swallowed. Danny. Danny could. Danny did. This wasn't who he was. He just wished he believed it more.

"Get out," he whispered and then the volume grew and he roared, "Get out!"

The man chuckled.

"Man wants us to finish up. Just a moment, Rob."

Quick thrusts and a satisfied grunt and his eyes stayed with Rusty all the time. Then he climbed off and the boy scrambled into his clothes as the man pulled on his jeans and shirt.

"Thanks, Rob. Money's on the side."

The boy collected the cash without pausing and headed past Rusty to the door. Rusty stopped him and grabbed his hands. No ring. He let him pass and glared at the man.

"Different boy," the man smiled and added, buttoning up his shirt, "What did you tell your friend about your missing ring?"

"Said it needed cleaning," Rusty replied tightly.

The amusement on the man's face was evident.

"On the side where the money was, Rob. Before and after."

Reluctantly, Rusty crossed the room and picked up the two photos. The first was a tongue with his ring balanced on the end of it. And the second…

"It'll certainly need cleaning after that," came the voice from the bed. "But it felt so good when he was wearing it, I didn't want him to take it off."

"Where is it?" Rusty turned and demanded.

The man shrugged. "I have no idea. I let him keep it. I guess he's wearing it right now."

Right now…

"Right now while he's working," the man elaborated. "I think he rather liked it."

Rusty felt his shoulders sag.

"What do you want?" and it was a stranger's voice, empty and defeated.

The man stood up and walked over to stand in front of him.

"Exactly what I'm getting," he told Rusty. "You can go now, Rob. We'll have more fun tomorrow."

Rusty stumbled away and his feet led him automatically back to his suite, his mind, hollow and numb. He walked in and Danny spun round, relief and rage doing battle for control of him.

"I'm trying to think of a snappier expression than idiotic, fucking bastard," Danny said, letting the anger show. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"I was thinking you wouldn't let me go."

"No shit!"

"And I had to go, Danny," he said tiredly. "So I went."

And he couldn't hide the suffering. Right now, he doubted he could even try to hide it and what he hated most was the pain reflected in Danny's face.

"Tell me," Danny said quietly.

"Gave the money to MacAvoy. And the other had a little company in the bedroom. Made me watch and wait."

"Fuck…" With feeling.

"Yeah…" Rusty hesitated for a moment and then pushed the question he wanted to ask away. Because Danny wouldn't understand the need to ask it and he knew what Danny would say. Just that he wanted so much to believe Danny's reply and right at that moment, he didn't know if he would. Instead, he said, "Whisky" and they sank on to the couch, side by side, sipping spirits in silence.

When he could bear the weight of the love no longer, Rusty picked up the remote and there was a rerun of _Rowan and Martin _to fill the room. It would be better in the morning, Rusty told himself as Goldie Hawn was ditzy and Lily Tomlin was a blast. In the morning, he'd be back on track and the feelings would be locked down and he could do what he needed to do.

Right now, he just felt he didn't deserve Danny.

* * *

Danny could see that Rusty was wound tight and wanted to say as little as possible. He could see that Rusty wanted space. And he could give him that. He could give him time to recover his grace.

But minutes became more minutes and then the TV was on and it was covering not comforting and still Danny let it go until he could bear the subdued no longer. He reached over and gently took the remote from Rusty and held on to Rusty's hand. Rusty seemed to want to pull away but he permitted the touch and Danny looked down at the hand that lay passively in his.

"Fuck," he whispered and rubbed a thumb over Rusty's palm, over the four deep, dark crescents that curved into the lines of life and health and love.

He reached over and checked the other hand and saw the same marks and looked up at Rusty, still saying nothing, still not sharing, and Rusty's eyes were dull and empty and Danny had glimpsed this look before over the years and he hated it, hated the less-than-Rusty it implied.

"Rus…"

"It's nothing, Danny. It doesn't matter," Rusty said, pulling free.

And Danny hated the words he was hearing and the words that Rusty wasn't saying and he wanted to scream at him that it wasn't true, that in fact, the reverse was true, that he did matter, that he was everything.

Before he could say a word, Rusty cut him off. "We should get some sleep".

"Not-"

"-no." Rusty's eyes flicked round to the bedroom door and back again to Danny. "No."

Not tonight. Danny kicked off his shoes and turned off the television and when he turned back, Rusty's shoes were on the floor and he had his jacket off and was curled up underneath it as small as possible at the end of the couch.

"Rus…?" Soft and disbelieving because this wasn't…

"Tired, Danny," came the response and Danny bit his lip and turned off the lights and sat at the opposite end of the couch in the mostly dark, his glass of whisky in his hand, saying nothing and hurting so much.

* * *

He lay and didn't sleep and knew that Danny was stiff and silent and close by and a million miles away because that's where Rusty had pushed him. And being together but separate was in no way normal and he knew Danny was in pain but he couldn't help it. Right now, he couldn't help it because he was struggling to keep himself together and he couldn't allow himself to use the love and the support because maybe that was all there was to hold him in place. He felt so brittle. And if all he was was what he feared - shadow and no substance – then he didn't know if he and Danny could ever be the same. He needed to work through this on his own.

And so he lay and closed his eyes and didn't sleep and let the images of what the man had shown him – _him, at work; him, allowing himself to be used, to be fucked _– play across his mind while his brain worried away at the knots of logic. He pulled the coat around him and shivered.

* * *

He must have dozed eventually. Somewhere in between the dream where his adult self had taken the place of the boy on the bed in the Cleveland suite – _"Tell me why you love to be fucked." "Because I'm a fucking whore." – _and the dream where he was smiling cheerfully at young boys that MacAvoy brought to him and passing on tips and techniques to produce quick results.

There was blood in his mouth and he hadn't made a sound and his fingers were digging into his palms and he hadn't moved a muscle. He knew this because he opened his eyes and Danny was curled up asleep on the floor alongside the couch, as close to him as he could be, and if there had been violent nightmares, Danny would have woken and he would have woken him and held him and everything would have been so much better because it always was.

Slowly, he uncurled his fingers and swallowed the blood and kept his breathing even. Twenty five years on and it wasn't true. It wasn't. _(And he didn't want to think about why the dreams hadn't been nightmares)._ He needed to lock this feeling down where it belonged.

He shifted and sat up and Danny stirred and looked up blearily with the air of a man who has not slept well. Rusty flicked him a smile. He'd been wrong to push Danny away. Danny wasn't the enemy.

"That floor doing wonders for your back?"

"I think I've got carpet face." Danny sat up, rubbing his cheek. "What time is it?"

"Early."

Danny nodded and ran a hand over his hair.

"Too early to get up," Rusty told him. "We should probably give it another hour or so."

His eyes were on Danny's and he saw the moment at which Danny realised the apology and the invitation and then Danny was on the couch and his arms were round Rusty and Rusty let himself settle back into warmth and tenderness.

"He gave my ring away," Rusty said quietly and saw without looking the expression on Danny's face.

"Well, we could always-"

"-walking the streets and talking to boys?" Rusty shook his head. "No." He was definite.

He could feel the stubbornness rising in Danny and alongside it, the thought that he would protect Rusty from what needed to be done and would do it himself. Rusty sighed and twisted his head round to look at Danny.

"I can't wear it again," he said and Danny's mouth set tightly and he nodded.

_Bastard._

"Yeah." Rusty paused for a moment. "Bobby thinks tomorrow?" There was more hope in his voice than he meant there to be.

"He's almost certain," Danny said and there was less certainty in there than he knew Danny wanted. "It'll be OK."

And Rusty felt the promise in every fibre of Danny's being. It would be OK (and he ignored the tiny voice inside that wanted to analyse how much of that OK was conviction and how much was hope). He smiled and closed his eyes.

They slept properly for the first time that night.

* * *

Rusty woke to love and forever and his thoughts and fears were buried deep. It was a matter of a day or two at most and then he would be free of anything that could drag him back to the murk and the filth. He wasn't going to give either MacAvoy or the man the satisfaction of seeing how fragile he was.

Danny's eyes were closed and the strain of the past couple of days was showing in his face. Rusty reached up and brushed his fingers down Danny's cheek and smiled as Danny opened his eyes.

"Breakfast," Rusty said decisively as he stood up and stretched and he liked how his voice sounded this morning. Strong and steady.

"Ordering in?" Danny asked.

"No," Rusty was quiet and assured. "I'm not hiding."

* * *

They wandered down to the restaurant and carried on from the previous day. Close as usual; closer than usual; closer than was usual. To the observer there was something more to be wondered at.

Kirsty, who was walking back to reception having finished her coffee and croissant, had a little thrill of pleasure when she saw them. She liked Mr Ryan so much. He was a great boss and she didn't mind the shifts and the work because she loved what he was trying to do. She'd been at the Standard under the old management and Mr Ryan was like a breath of fresh air. Aspiring to excellence had become the norm.

And even if Mr Ryan was…eccentric – walking barefoot across the foyer, disappearing at a moment's notice, even this haircut – even with all that, he was wonderful. She was a little bit in love with him, she'd admit it. Even though nothing was ever going to come of it. Even though there was going to be nothing other than a brilliant smile or a gentle flirt, she still enjoyed those moments.

As for Mr Diaz, well, he was just the perfect gentleman. Debonair and charming, persuasive and personable, like an old-fashioned movie star and maybe she was just a little bit in love with him too.

She remembered when he'd come to the hotel with his wife and their friends and they'd taken over a suite – a corridor, in fact. And Mr Diaz had looked so pale, he'd moved so slowly and carefully and something awful had happened to him, that much, Kirsty was sure. But what she remembered even more than the physical pain was the look in his eyes when he'd asked her if she'd heard from Mr Ryan. There was such desperate anxiety and she'd thought about that look for a long time. Like the world would end if he never saw him again.

Kirsty had no doubt how they felt about each other and she hugged herself inside when she saw them together. They seemed more complete that way and she was just a lot in love with that.

She headed back to reception where it was rush hour for checkouts and picked up the clipboard with the rotas to head to housekeeping. She waited for an elevator and smiled up at the man beside her.

* * *

Breakfast over and just a few moments behind Kirsty, they sauntered across reception and to the bank of elevators, deep in discussion as to whether the plot logic in "Back to the Future II" held up.

"You think time ever healed properly?" Rusty mused.

Danny's answer was cut off as a hand thrust its way through the nearly closed elevator doors to open them up again. Standing inside was Kirsty. Smiling and professional and friendly and laughing up at the other occupant of the elevator. The man whose hand had held the elevator for them. The hand at the end of the arm with the tattoo.

Danny felt Rusty freeze up beside him. With extreme effort, he kept his own face neutral. He wasn't supposed to know this man, this man who had…this man who continued to torture Rusty… His hand fastened on Rusty's elbow and he opened his mouth to say that they would take the stairs.

"Oh, Mr Ryan!" Kirsty said eagerly. "This is one of our VIPs. Let me introduce you."

There was nothing for it. They had to step in to the damn elevator and let the doors close behind them and travel upwards.

"This is Mr-"

"-MacAvoy," the man said. "Mr MacAvoy."

"And this is Mr Ryan, who owns the hotel and this is his friend, Mr Diaz."

Handshakes. Unavoidable. Unbearable. And as Danny's fingers applied fierce pressure, he saw the amusement in the other's face at perceived territoriality. Well, that was something. Let the bastard imagine that he, Danny, was all things jealous and possessive. It would help later and it would explain any aggression or hostility that the man picked up on which was a good thing because even he was certain that some of the undying fury was leaking through. All these years and here was one of the men who had…Danny choked off the thought. He couldn't lose it. Not here in front of Kirsty. Not now when Bobby was hopefully on his way. Instead, he stood with a smile on his face and death in his eyes and leaned close to Rusty.

"Mr MacAvoy has been saying some lovely things about the hotel, Mr Ryan. He's a very happy guest," Kirsty beamed.

"Good to hear." Brief as if Rusty didn't trust himself to say more than three words and Danny could hear the tension rippling through him.

"You really know how to look after your customers," the man said, his eyes on Rusty. "Make sure they're satisfied."

"Oh, Mr Ryan really puts himself out for guests," Kirsty agreed. "Nothing's too much trouble."

The man gave a sudden grin. "Bends over backwards for them?"

Danny's fingers flexed into fists and the voice of reason inside his head that talked of the plan they were working to was being outshouted by the desire to leap on the man and not stop hitting.

The elevator came to a stop.

"My floor," Kirsty said.

"Ours too," Rusty added tersely and the three of them stepped out together.

"Nice to meet you, Mr Ryan, Mr Diaz. Hope to see you soon."

The words trailed after them as they walked down the corridor in the opposite direction to Kirsty and then, Rusty pushed him through a door into an empty stairwell and they stood on plush carpet, surrounded by muted pastel paint on the walls, looking at each other.

Danny couldn't keep the darkness off his face any longer and he didn't care that Rusty saw it. Rusty had known how he'd felt almost from the beginning. And he could see the rigidity in Rusty's frame that was palpable and testament to the frightening amount of self-control being exerted just to keep Rusty upright and functioning.

Danny hated everything he was reading in Rusty at that moment.

"Rus," he began, "it's not too late, we can still-" and as he saw Rusty register the words, his phone rang, loud and jarring and he snatched at it.

"Danny, it's Bobby. We're good for tonight. I need details."

Wordlessly, Danny passed the phone over to Rusty and Rusty started talking in hushed tones about the layout of the hotel. As he did so, Danny stared at him hard. But the hesitancy and the wistful hint of maybe had gone. Rusty was firmly back at plan A.


	8. Waiting Game

Ghosts by InSilva

Disclaimer: don't own.

Chapter Eight: Waiting Game

* * *

Kirsty hummed to herself as she went about her duties. She'd left housekeeping and was on her way back down to reception, having communicated daily numbers to the head of department. The hotel was busy. It was always busy. And Kirsty hoped Mr Ryan was making a fortune from the place.

As she stepped out of the elevator, she was thinking about Mr Ryan and Mr Diaz. How great that she'd been able to introduce them to one of the VIPs from the Cleveland suite. Hotel inspectors, she was certain. Oh, Mr Ryan hadn't said so in so many words but she wasn't stupid. Mr Ryan must have had a tip off from somewhere. What else was behind the personal care given to that room service tray the other night? Polishing and cleaning and wanting the tray back again to see whether or not they'd enjoyed their meal. Yes, there was definitely something else going on. Well, Mr Ryan deserved these men's special attention. She hoped that he got it.

Arthur was finishing the last of the guest checkouts and he smiled at her.

"Everything OK, Kirsty?"

"Everything's fine," she laughed back at him. Everything was.

* * *

Danny had made him walk outside in the bright February sunshine past people and ordinary lives and now they were sitting in the café on a corner and he was staring down at the pink milkshake that Danny had ordered for him as a matter of course.

He was still thinking about the elevator. About the man introducing himself and forcing the handshake. With him – and the grip, the touch had been pitiless and knowing. With Danny - and Rusty didn't want to think about that. He'd stood and he'd felt Danny burning with anger beside him and yet leaning into him, offering support and the eternal. Yes, he'd felt that and he'd understood it and yet he'd been detached from it all. He couldn't even silently tell Danny not to react. Instead he had to trust that Danny wouldn't lose it in front of Kirsty and would keep the longterm view in mind.

All he'd been able to do was stand and look at the man's eyes and the world had come down to the two of them.

Danny's fingers brushed his and Rusty blinked and crooked a brief smile.

_Rus._

"Tonight," Rusty said and tried not to make it a sigh. Tonight. He could make it to tonight and hopefully he would make it through it.

* * *

Eventually, they'd had to come back to the hotel and they were sitting in the bar, in public and on show. It was early evening and the place was half-empty. Even so, it was a few moments before Danny felt the eyes watching them from the shadows. He half-turned his head and looked at Rusty opposite who was once again staring down at his drink.

"I know. Ten o'clock," he muttered then clarified, "My ten o'clock."

Danny watched as he knocked back the whisky and he saw the battle for self control going on where no one would be able to see it The tightness in Rusty's face and the tension in his shoulders and the fleeting twist of his mouth. Still Rusty was looking at the glass in his hand and Danny had to reach over and cover his empty hand with his.

Rusty's eyes screwed shut. "Stupid," he said in a low voice. "He's not going to do anything while we're sat here. He's not going to speak to me, he's not going to touch me." His eyes opened, rich with misery. "Danny..."

Danny got to his feet, his own drink hardly touched. "Come on."

* * *

They had hardly walked through the door to Rusty's suite when the phone rang. Rusty's jaw set and he wasn't hiding, he wasn't going to let this man dictate to him, it wasn't him, it was never him and he marched forward and snatched up the phone.

"What do you want?" he snapped and then as the person the other end stuttered, his face changed, relaxing and apologetic and he saw the tension leave Danny's face too. "Sorry, Arthur. How can I help?"

"I'm on night duty, Mr Ryan. I just wanted to check there weren't any special instructions."

"Special...?"

He was bewildered and then he heard Arthur swallow and add, "Kirsty said you might have-"

"No," he said sharply. "No. Not tonight." Then he frowned. "Weren't you on duty this morning, Arthur?"

"Pulling a double," Arthur said sheepishly.

"Make sure it doesn't become a habit," Rusty told him. "Sleep's important."

"Yes, Mr Ryan. Thank you, Mr Ryan."

"Sleep's important?" Danny repeated as he hung up. "Can I quote you on that?"

Rusty flashed him a smile and then the phone rang again.

"What is it, Arth-?" he tailed off because the other end of the phone just _sounded_ different.

Danny was across the room in a second, standing close by him, listening to the call.

"Just wanted to make sure you're holding up, Rob."

"I'm fine, thank you." Rusty kept his voice steady.

"Your friend with you?"

"Yes." And his voice was still steady and if it sounded a little forced that was all to the good because the man would think it was because Mr Diaz was present. He wouldn't think it was because-

"You sound a little strained, Rob. Struggling with something?"

He didn't say a thing.

"It was nice to see you both this morning in the elevator, Rob. Though going up? That's got to be a whole new experience for you."

He wouldn't say a thing.

"You've been out today." The man sounded reproachful. "I had this place to myself, you know. MacAvoy went out to put his money in a bank. No, I always thought he kept it under a mattress too. Anyway, I fancied a little company. I was sad you weren't around."

He couldn't say a thing.

"Well, I'll see you later. In the meantime, don't do anything I wouldn't do."

The line went dead and the phone slipped from Rusty's fingers and Danny was there to hold him.

* * *

Killing time was always the worst. Whatever. Waiting for people to leave an office, waiting for guards to change over, waiting for a carefully planned sequence of events to start. This night was no exception.

Danny surreptitiously checked the time by looking at Rusty's watch, knowing that Rusty had done the same in reverse but five minutes earlier. Minutes were dripping like honey. They sat side by side on the couch and he looked over at Rusty who was still a little way off being Rusty. A long way off if Danny was being honest. And Danny was so, so glad that Rusty wasn't going through this alone.

As he'd promised, he'd called Tess.

"I think I'll be back late tomorrow, Tess. The unwanted guests should have moved on by then."

She'd sounded pleased and grateful for the call and he found himself wondering if telling her everything – not about this but about other things -really would work, really would be the answer. She'd just about handled Vincente, after all, and things couldn't ever be as bad as that. Maybe she was tougher than he gave her credit for.

He looked at Rusty.

"Bobby'll make sure they don't pick up my prints from the wallet," he said.

"Yeah."

_Ready?_

"I guess…"

Danny dialled Rusty's cell phone number and Rusty answered and then placed the phone in his inside pocket.

"Why is it on my bill?" Danny wanted to know.

"You didn't have the last bill to deal with," Rusty pointed out.

Danny poured a glass of whisky and took a swig then handed it to Rusty who also drank before liberally daubing the rest of the glass round Danny's shirt collar. Rusty sat the glass down and stood, bracing himself.

"Just do it, Danny."

Danny sighed. It went against everything in his nature.

"Danny…" Warningly.

"Where?" Resigned.

"Mouth. Most visible."

And Danny pulled his fist back and punched, wincing as the blow connected and split Rusty's lip. Blood dripped down Rusty's chin and over his shirt.

"Alright. Let's go."

* * *

Rusty pounded on the door of the Cleveland suite and pushed past the man who opened it to confront MacAvoy, sprawled on the couch and watching television.

"You can get out! You can get out right now!"

"Lad, lad, calm down, whatever's the matter?"

Rusty glared at him. "I told him! Satisfied? I told him. You've got nothing over me now. Now, you can just crawl back under whatever stone you came from. Both of you." He glared at the other.

MacAvoy jumped to his feet, his expression one of consternation while the other man was fixed on the mark on his mouth as if checking whether or not it could be self-inflicted.

* * *

Danny was stood down the corridor outside, listening.

"You did what!" he heard. "Why ever did you want to go and do a thing like that, lad? I wouldn't have told him!"

"No. No. You would just have sat up here and made me squirm, wouldn't you?"

"I thought that was my job, Rob."

Silence.

"Did you tell him about me, Rob?"

"Yes." Defiant.

"Did you tell him everything we did together?"

Silence.

"Did you tell him that you didn't once ask me to stop?"

Silence.

"You didn't ask me to stop, did you, Rob?"

"No." Eventually. Whispered.

"You didn't beg or plead for me to stop, did you?"

"No." Whispered with a hint of desperation that made Danny grimace.

"If you had, maybe I would have done…You must have enjoyed it, Rob."

"No!" Loud and angry.

"Did you tell him that you let me do those things to you? That you wanted me to? Even the other…maybe you liked the pain just a little, Rob."

Silence.

"Rob?"

"No…" Breathed. Barely a whisper.

"Maybe you want me to hurt you again?"

"No…" Drawn out and miserable and the ache in it was excruciating to listen to.

Danny checked his watch and cursed. Too early. Damn it, he wasn't waiting. He pocketed his phone, ran to the door and banged on it hard.

"Let me in!" he thundered. "Let me in! I know he's in there!"

There was a moment and Danny's breath caught in his throat and then there was a loud moan from inside that came from Rusty followed by a loud plea.

"Don't open the door! Please don't open the door!"

As he banged again, he heard a laugh that he recognised.

"Beg me a little more, Rob. I'm not certain that you mean it."

"Don't let him in here, please!"

"Open this door, now!" Danny bawled and his fists clattered into the wood.

There was the sound of a lock being turned and then the door cracked open. Danny leant into it with his entire weight and pushed it wide, shoving the man backwards as he barrelled into the room.

"Where is he?" Danny roared. "Where is he?"

Rusty was on the far side of the room and he let out a gasp as Danny flew towards him, bumping drunkenly into the man in his path and depositing the wallet in his back pocket.

"Come here," Danny snarled. "I'll teach you to-"

A sob of fear emerged from Rusty and he dived behind MacAvoy. Danny's fist was back in an instant and he let fly with feeling. MacAvoy yelped as the punch caught him on the cheek.

"You little-" He tried to grab Rusty who dodged and circled back and then hands closed tightly on Rusty's upper arms, restraining him.

"Here. I'll hold him for you."

Unexpected. Unplanned. Unprepared for.

Danny saw the colour drain from Rusty, he saw the sag in his shoulders, saw him lock down and he couldn't help the flash of anger crossing his face.

"Oh, Rob…" the man's eyes were sharp and his mouth was right behind Rusty's ear. "What new game is this you're playing…?"

He ran a hand possessively over the remains of Rusty's hair like he was some sort of pet and kept his hand resting on the back of Rusty's neck. The look of awful horror on Rusty's face nearly killed Danny. He leapt forward, his eyes glittering.

"Take your hand off him now or I will snap your wrist!"

The man held Danny's unblinking gaze and his eyes narrowed. There was a moment where nothing happened and then everything happened.

"Like the man says, Rob, you're a bad pony and I won't bet on you," the man said pushing Rusty forward violently into Danny's arms.

As Danny caught him, the man sprinted to the door and pulled it open.

"Get back! Hit the floor! Get back! Federal officers!"

Guns and Feds swarmed into the room.

"On the floor, now!"

Danny and Rusty obeyed and MacAvoy fell awkwardly to the carpet beside them, his hands on his head, his eyes wide with fear that Danny took savage delight in.

The other man was struggling with four Feds who dragged him out of the room. Another two pulled MacAvoy to his feet and when Bobby entered, Danny and Rusty stood up with no sudden movements just in case anyone was feeling trigger-happy.

"What's this all about?" MacAvoy quivered.

"As if you don't know," Bobby said darkly. "I'm going to take great pleasure in interviewing you personally."

"But I don't know…" Macavoy said pleadingly. He looked over at Rusty. "Tell them, lad, tell them I'm innocent…"

Rusty's face was expressionless. Then he strode over, drew his fist back and punched MacAvoy so hard in the face that MacAvoy shrieked in pain. Bobby waved away the concern of the other Feds.

"That's been a long time coming," Rusty spat. "Believe me."

* * *

A/N: the bad pony line is an almost quote from David Mamet's "House of Games". Which is a great and clever film.


	9. Acceptance

Ghosts by InSilva

Disclaimer: just stacking the deck. Do not own.

Chapter Nine: Acceptance

* * *

Back in Rusty's suite, Danny was busy crushing ice and wrapping it in a silk handkerchief and wondering exactly what he was going to have to say to Rusty to get him to say more than two words.

The Feds had disappeared taking with them a cringing MacAvoy who was still pleading ignorance and innocence. Bobby had lingered for a moment to exchange a look with the pair of them and silent wonder at Rusty's hairstyle and Danny had nodded thanks. Then they'd been on their own and Danny had turned to Rusty and seen his face and known that although it was over, it was far from over.

"Here. Let me see."

"I'm-"

"You are so not. Now get over here and let me see."

Reluctantly, Rusty had dragged himself over to where Danny stood in the little kitchen.

"Tip your head back."

"It's just a-"

"Back!"

Rusty obeyed and winced as Danny pressed the ice to his lip.

"Keep pressing that to your mouth."

_I think I know what to do._

_Talk to me._

Rusty looked away and shook his head.

"Talk to me."

"Danny…"

"Rusty, I am out of here tomorrow. And before I go, I need to make sure you're-"

"I'm what? Whole again?"

The glare told Danny that Rusty was feeling far from complete.

"Bobby will take care-"

"Bobby will do a fine job," Rusty agreed. "And I will thank him for it and I will thank Livingston for what he did and damn it, I will seek out Lazy Lou and kick him out of his hammock and thank him too."

He pulled the ice-pack away and fingered his lip. Patiently, Danny took hold of his hand and pressed the ice back in place.

"And I'll thank you too, Danny," Rusty said and Danny's hand fell away from his and he looked at Rusty in shock.

They never thanked each other. Ever. They never needed to. Thanks was for strangers or polite acquaintances or relatives or friends or lovers. Not for them. It hurt. And Danny couldn't hide it. Rusty opened and closed his mouth as if he wanted to take it back and then stuck his chin out defiantly.

"Why?" Danny's voice was low and insistent.

Rusty shrugged and made to move past him to the living area. Danny grabbed him and spun him back. The ice fell all over the floor.

"No, you don't. You don't just…and walk away. Why am I suddenly on that side of the fence?"

Rusty tried to pull away but Danny's hands tightened.

"Unless you want to fight me, you talk." Serious.

There was silence for a moment as Rusty shut his eyes and Danny wondered if he was actually going to have to go through with the threat. Then Rusty spoke.

"What would have happened if you hadn't been here, Danny? What would I have done? Hmm?"

He opened his eyes and with a violent jerk freed himself.

"Locked myself up in here? Of course, _you_ wouldn't have been a bargaining chip. But _he_ would have been. Can you see me trotting up dutifully night after night to hand money over to MacAvoy? Watch that cheerful, little smile as he takes it off me? That mercenary, little gleam in his eye as he counts it? Can you see MacAvoy wanting to set up shop here? Can you see me standing there while _he_…while _he…_"

The words died away and he pitched forward, grabbing work surface for support. Angrily, he waved away Danny's hand.

"You heard him. All the things that happened. I let him do them. I didn't try to fight. I never said no. He's right. Whatever are you doing with me?"

"Rus..."

"I let him. I let _them._ No one tied me up or held me down." His eyes flashed up at Danny. "Do you want to know how many men I've gone down on? How many men I've let come in my mouth? How many times I've swallowed?"

"Rusty!"

Rusty wouldn't be stopped.

"Do you know how many men I've let fuck me? How many men I've wrapped my legs around or bent over for? How many men I've sold myself to?"

"You didn't have a-"

"Oh, I had a choice! That's what I told myself but I had a choice! All the time I pretended otherwise, all the time I walked into that flat and I stripped and I...I told myself it wasn't who I was. But he's right..."

The anger drained out of Rusty's voice and his gaze dropped away.

"He's right. I'm a fucking whore." His eyes flicked over to Danny's. "Those photographs? Those photographs that turned your stomach? That was me, Danny. That was me."

There was rawness in Rusty's voice and hearing it, Danny felt the rush of pain even as Rusty said the unthinkable.

"How can you bear to be near me? We don't even belong together."

_"What?"_ Loud with horrified disbelief.

"Face it, Danny, we're from different worlds. You're...and I'm..."

"You think I think I'm better than you? You think we should never have met?" The anger was fierce. "Since when do you go all "Uptown, Uptempo Woman" on me?"

Rusty was looking anywhere but at him and Danny's anger faded. Whatever Rusty was saying, it wasn't Rusty saying it. Danny just had to convince him of that.

"Rus, it was never you, you got out of there," Danny tried. "You found Saul-"

There was a sharp cry. "Saul found _me._ Took pity on me. Took me home. If he hadn't, I'd probably still be rolling around someone's bed. Don't you see, Danny? That was me. And I disgust myself. Why do you even want to know me?"

Danny had heard enough. He reached out and wrapped his arms around Rusty, pushing Rusty's head into his shoulder, ignoring the struggle Rusty put up and holding on, holding on while the self-anger and the self-loathing tried their best to fight him. Eventually, Rusty stopped battling but Danny's hold on him grew tighter.

"Listen to me, Rusty Ryan," he said fiercely, his mouth by Rusty's left ear. "You are the best…" There was no word. And maybe there didn't need to be. He went on, "You are the best I could ever wish to find in this world."

He felt Rusty shake his head because just like the thanks that was never needed, they never laid down what they meant to each other. Danny ignored him. Because it needed saying.

"And what you went through with that…with both of them…it was about staying alive. It was about protecting yourself. And you did that. All those years ago, that was what you had to do. There wasn't a choice. It was about making it through to another day. You're a survivor, Rusty."

Danny let his grip loosen and Rusty pulled back to look at him.

"You want to know what I'm doing with you?" Sincere and all things truthful. "I could never be anywhere else."

Rusty blinked a couple of times and then Danny saw the unhelpful and the untrue slowly evaporate from him.

"Danny…"

_Save it._

"I was going to ask if there was any more ice."

Danny exhaled slowly, contemplating exactly where to put the ice. Rusty was saved by the phone ringing in the other room and flashed him a quick grin as he strode through and picked up the handset.

"Hello?" he answered, confidence back in his voice.

"Rusty?" It was Bobby. "I've been trying to reach you on your phones but they're permanently engaged."

"Oh…"

He fished his out of his pocket and held it up to Danny as he cancelled the call. Danny pulled a face and copied his actions.

"Putting you on speaker, Bobby," he said, doing just that as Danny and he sat down on the couch.

"Just wanted to give you an update. MacAvoy is still swearing he is innocent of everything and anything going back to-"

"Culloden?" Rusty suggested.

There was a pause.

"Who's Culloden?" Bobby asked, sidetracked.

"Forget it, Bobby," Danny advised. "You were saying?"

"Apparently all he's ever done is and I quote "help gentlemen enjoy themselves, if you know what I mean". When I mentioned that living off immoral earnings was hardly an innocent pastime, but please could he continue to convict himself with his own words, he shut up."

"What's he looking at?" Danny asked.

"All the stuff in the flat? Heading to the pen for a goodly number of years, I'd say."

_Still not long enough._

_Danny…_

"He won't be in for an easy ride when he gets there. This sort of thing does not go down well with other cons."

"Good." He looked at Rusty who gave a quick nod. "What about-"

"-the other? Oh…I have to thank you there. He's a vicious piece of work. We've been after him for some time."

Danny's eyes were still on Rusty's.

"We lifted a partial print from a scene in a house in Virginia two years back and there are so many related cases over the country going back so many years."

"Cases?" Danny asked.

There was silence for a moment and then Bobby sighed.

"I'll tell you about one that happened on my home patch. Teenage boy. Abducted. Taken off to an empty house in the woods in the middle of nowhere. Kept him there for hours."

Rusty's eyes were on Danny's.

"Made him…well, every which way you can think of. Made him look at him the whole damn time. If he tried to look away, he hit him. Had this mirror… Got his name out of him and kept using it. Can you imagine that? Over and over, like he was his property or something. Kid pleaded with him to stop, cried his eyes up…man just laughed in his face. Kid tried to get away and he broke his leg. Then he went to work with this…" He broke off. "Couple of hunters found him by chance the next day. Boy was in hospital for months. Day he got out he killed himself."

There was silence and Danny saw a single tear running unnoticed down Rusty's cheek as Rusty's eyes focused on nothing as Rusty busied himself, burying the rawness and the pain, locking the memories back up in the box where they'd been stored for the past quarter of a century.

"How did you guys…I mean, did you have a clue about this one?"

Bobby's voice almost made Danny jump. Still watching Rusty, he answered.

"We knew one of the boys, Bobby."

"Right." There was a pause as Bobby digested that. "And he came through it?"

"Yeah."

"Must have been a tough-minded little bastard."

Danny's lips twitched.

"Yeah." _Then and now._

"OK, well, keep in touch. And try to make it more regular, guys."

"Thanks, Bobby," they said in unison.

They sat and looked at each other for a moment in silence then Rusty said, "You stink of booze".

"Your lip's going to be the size of a football by morning."

Rusty ran his tongue experimentally over it and shrugged.

"Bed?"

"Yeah."

* * *

Danny woke in the morning to find Rusty gone. Not just from the bedroom, from his suite. He frowned. And then cold, irrational fear wrapped itself round him and he dressed hurriedly. His hand was on the door handle when Rusty walked in, clutching food and papers.

"Where were…oh…" Rusty tailed off as he understood the reason.

"Rus…" And he needed to look and to see and to check all was well.

Rusty rolled his eyes and permitted the inspection and smiled brightly.

"Here." He pushed the bag of fast food breakfast at Danny and moved to the couch, spreading out the papers in front of him.

"It's on the news, too." He clicked the TV on.

"Breaking news," Danny heard. "Overnight, two cases which have been plaguing the Federal Bureau have been wrapped up. The "Man with the Fish Tattoo" has been sought for many years for his perverted crimes against young men which on a couple of occasions, have resulted in their deaths. One of these was young Jerome Masterson of Birmingham, Alabama who died on his fifteenth birthday. Authorities are now deciding where the trial should be held. If they light on Jerome's home town, there is every chance this monster will end up on Death Row."

Danny felt the satisfaction manifest itself in a broad smile. He looked at Rusty who was eating something with pancakes and sausage and syrup and grinning through his swollen lip.

"In another breakthrough, FBI agents arrested a man who has been a key player in a ring of international paedophiles. Evidence uncovered on his home computer showed images of a disturbing nature and disks hidden in his mattress contained even more graphic illustrations. The FBI has also suggested that his fingerprints have been found on other items that inextricably link him to the crime for which he is accused. In other news…"

Rusty clicked the set off again and pushed the bag of food at Danny.

"Plastic egg and bacon?" Danny asked, retrieving one of the packages from inside. He looked inside the bag again. "How much did you get?"

"Celebratory meal," Rusty shrugged, forking the last mouthful of savoury and sweet pancake into his mouth. "No expense spared. Bought one of everything."

"Well, in that case…" Danny unwrapped what he considered to be an approximation of breakfast. He looked over at Rusty. "I am OK to eat this, aren't I?"

"Sure." Rusty wiped the crumbs from his mouth and smiled. Then he reached into the bag and found an identical package. "Some things I bought two of."

"Some things come better in pairs."

About to take a bite, he paused as he watched Rusty fetching out a tub of what looked like extra syrup and dismantling the egg and bacon muffin in front of him in order to pour the syrup over. Rusty looked up.

"Some things work better together than on their own."

"That's true," Danny agreed.

There was a pause.

_I'm still not going to get you to try it, am I?_

_Not a chance._

* * *

A/N: and that is it. Apart from epilogue.


	10. Epilogue

Ghosts by InSilva

Disclaimer: don't own, just loading the dice

Epilogue

A/N: thanks to otherhawk for pointing out the part of this that needed to be written. Hope I got it right. ;)

* * *

Sleep was overwhelming him. Not really surprising given that he'd had so little for the past seventy-two hours. The pace had been frenetic and he'd been juggling official and unofficial, leading people down the paths he wanted and guiding and shaping and then _acting._

MacAvoy. That had been…that had been taking things to the extreme. Though after MacAvoy's little confession as to what his "only" crime had been, he had felt more comfortable about things. Just being in the same room as the man made him nauseous. And then the man with the fish tattoo. Christ, what a bonus. What a fantastic bonus.

He turned on to his side and his arm went round Molly, sleeping gently beside him, and he moulded into her, the comfort immediate. He felt the last waves of wakefulness leaving him and as he drifted, something floated tantalisingly across the horizon of consciousness.

*

…"_Tell them, lad, tell them I'm innocent…" Pleading and fearful._

_A punch, hard and deliberate._

"_That's been a long time coming."…_

_*_

…_An interrogation room and a man with a smile, cheerful and bewildered, trying to make sense of things, trying to make the ghastly truth a better option than the horrific lie…_

"_All I do is help gentlemen enjoy themselves, if you know what I mean"… _

_*_

"_We knew one of the boys, Bobby."_

"_And he came through it?"_

"_Yeah."_

"_Must have been a tough-minded little bastard."_

"_Yeah." _

*

He woke up on his back in a cold sweat.

DannyandRusty. Danny. And Rusty. They were never separated not in people's thoughts, not in people's minds. But one time… One time they had been. One time they had been separate people. Separate lives. Separate ways of life… Different ways of surviving…

Danny had asked. Rusty had given the name. Danny had phoned and asked and pleaded and it had sounded like something more than the world was at stake. Rusty… Rusty with that godawful haircut… Rusty whom MacAvoy knew, whom MacAvoy appealed to for help…

"_We knew one of the boys, Bobby."_

"Fuck," Bobby said aloud to his ceiling as the truth that he would never share hit and he laid and blinked as the revelation burned through him.

* * *

Danny had gone. They had spent the day together and by the time Danny had to leave to catch his flight, the surface was back, smooth and untroubled and underneath was fast catching up. There had been the desire in Danny's eyes to stay longer and Rusty had smiled.

_Go._

Now, he was walking back through his hotel, taking stock, checking with departments, showing his face and catching up on the day to day that he'd missed and hearing the trails of gossip about arrests and Mr Ryan and Mr Diaz and a haircut that didn't suit and a split lip that was new. He heard enough to know that the verdict was that somehow he and Danny were working with the Feds to bring down major criminals. He'd grinned at that.

When she came on duty in the evening, he could see that Kirsty had been crying. She was hiding the fact well with make-up and bravado but it wasn't fooling him.

Wordlessly, he beckoned her to one side, led her into his office and shut the door.

"What is it, Kirsty?" he asked gently.

"You-you-"

She dissolved and he wished he'd been better prepared and thought to have a handkerchief or tissues to hand. She fished up her sleeve and found a lace square that didn't look as if it would be very effective. Dabbing her eyes, she tried again and through the sobs and sniffs, he heard:

"I thought they were…and I _introduced_ you…and Mr Diaz…"

"Kirsty," he began and patted her shoulder in what he hoped she would think was a big brother kind of way. "It's fine. And it's over. And I'm sorry that I had to ask you to get involved and that I couldn't tell you the truth." Like that would ever happen. "But you were brilliant. And there was nobody else I could ask."

Her eyes shone with something other than tears and she gave him a shaky smile.

"Back to business as normal," he went on. "But the Cleveland suite is not to be used. It is going to be gutted and refurbished."

Same with his own suite. Danny had insisted on him sitting on the couch while he changed the bedding before they went anywhere near the bed but it hadn't been enough. Nothing short of taking the room apart and rebuilding would be enough.

Kirsty turned to leave and then smiled shyly at him.

"I really helped?"

"Couldn't have done it without you," he told her truthfully.

* * *

Saul arrived the next day, unannounced.

Rusty sat opposite him in the restaurant that was between meals, coffee and hot chocolate on the table in front of them and hotel staff working round them to prepare the room for lunch.

"I saw the newspaper," Saul said and Rusty nodded.

"Danny was here?" Saul asked and when Rusty nodded again, his face relaxed a little.

Saul busied himself stirring his coffee and not looking at Rusty.

"Do I want to ask?" he said in a low voice.

About what MacAvoy had been arrested for. About the other man.

Rusty waited and Saul raised his gaze.

"Probably not," Rusty said lightly and Saul looked again at the shaven head and it was his turn to nod.

"I went back to look for him," Saul said unexpectedly and Rusty stopped in mid-sip of chocolate.

"When those nightmares started," Saul elaborated. "Went back a couple of times to see if I could find the bastard and explain."

His hand reached out and covered Rusty's and Rusty looked down at the hand with the liver spots and he thought of when his life had started twenty-five years ago.

"I lost my ring," he said, still staring at Saul's hand and there was quiet apology and misery.

Saul's hand tightened on his.

"It's only a ring," he said gently and Rusty closed his eyes and thought of things that couldn't be taken away from him.

* * *

It was three weeks later and his turn to travel. And it had been on a whim because Connecticut really wasn't all that far from Toledo and the emeralds.

Tess was visiting an old school friend and that left a half-decorated house and Chinese takeout and wine and the movie channel and Danny.

"It's growing back," Danny said, studying his head critically as they sat on the couch halfway through the third bottle of wine and _"Ransom"_ came to an end.

"Hair does that," Rusty told him.

"Thank God."

He smiled at Rusty and then Rusty could tell the exact point at which a question Danny didn't want to ask occurred to him. It was buried immediately and Rusty sighed.

_What?_

Danny blinked.

"It's-"

"-obviously something. Just ask me." And his eyes warned Danny that there couldn't be anything that they couldn't ask each other.

Still, Danny was silent and then he said, "You told me what happened. And it's stupid but I need to know."

For once, Rusty wasn't on the same page at all. He'd told Danny so much about the time of pain and self-loathing and he couldn't think what the question would be. Surely, not a figure. And if Danny was thinking of drawing up a list, he'd be disappointed. He never knew names.

"You said you were at MacAvoy's." Danny's voice was low and his eyes were on Rusty's and Rusty suddenly knew exactly what Danny was talking about.

He had. He'd told Danny he'd been at MacAvoy's and he'd blurred a little over the why and he'd trusted to the fact that he was telling so much to stop Danny wondering. He swallowed but Danny's eyes reminded him of what he'd just got through telling Danny about things being two way and open or they stopped being them.

"You were ill in bed," Danny went on and the pain was deep and evident in his voice. "You said you were ill and you'd been there…actually, how long had you been there?"

"Four days," he breathed and he wanted Danny to leave it there but of course, he wouldn't, couldn't because this was Danny and Danny heard and Danny _saw._

"MacAvoy let you lie in that bed ill for four days before he suggested…four days, Rus?" There was disbelief and disgust and hatred side by side by side.

Somewhere in the background with pleasing irony, "_Pretty Woman" _started and for once the subject of Tess did not come up.

"I was stupid," Rusty whispered. "I was stupid."

_A door with peeling paint on the outside and soul-sacrifice on the inside…_

"I was sick and I needed money and I went to find it from MacAvoy. I should have thought about what he'd…" His mouth tightened.

"_You look awful, lad."_

"I heard him on the phone. He was haggling."

"_I think we can reach a better figure than that."_

Rusty glanced away and tried to find somewhere to hide in Tess's choice of curtain. "I thought he'd called a doctor." And he heard Danny exhale and fingers wrapped into his.

"_Fuck…he is _hot."

"This man came and I was so _grateful_ and I smiled…" He looked down at their hands. "I thought he was a doctor, Danny."

"_Let's get you out of those clothes and into bed." _

"He and MacAvoy…" He bit his lip and Danny's grip tightened. "I let them, Danny… I let them strip me and lay me on the bed and…" There was a tiny little moan and he couldn't tell which of them it came from.

_Weight on top of him and pain like he'd never known and MacAvoy's eyes, bright and encouraging and with dollar signs in them._

"And MacAvoy was holding my wrists and he could see, he could _see_…" So much anger. So much wretchedness. "And when it was over…I felt…I felt so…" He sighed. "The other time was when the fever broke. And I chose-" Danny's fingers dug in. "I was given the choice-" Harder. "I had to," he admitted brokenly.

Danny's hand cupped his face and lifted it and made him look at him. At wordless hurt and howling and alongside the fury absolute, absolute and unconditional love and he felt the way he always did when he saw himself through Danny's eyes. Something inside him relaxed and he gave a little half-smile.

There was silence and Julia Roberts filled it, busy explaining that kisses on the mouth were far too intimate to be allowed.

"S'true," Rusty said and he started to say something else to bring the conversation back round to the light but Danny's mouth was suddenly on his, kissing as if he wanted to wipe away every last trace of things past and painful.

When he broke off, his eyes still full of emotion he could never fully express, Rusty crooked a smile.

"I know," he said quietly. He did. "And you'll probably never know how it makes me feel."

There was a snort and Rusty grinned.

"OK, I'll allow that you might have some idea. Now. You gonna let me go find that tub of Rocky Road you'd better have in the house?"

"Two spoons." Danny's voice was gravelly but there was control. "Don't you dare imagine you're not sharing."

Rusty stood up and the grin grew wider.

_Like that would ever happen._

* * *

A/N: and that's it. :)


End file.
